


Casting Rain

by Silverskye13



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A good stab at some backstory for a few of these guys, Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Gen, Make sure you stab the guy with the pointy end, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Runs from shortly before the barrier is made until its creation, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Torture, Wartime Fic, What Was I Thinking?, What do you mean you already know how to use a sword, and lots of sass from Gaster, expect near death experiences, hang onto your lifelines gents it's gonna be a bumpy ride!, probably gonna be some blood and gore at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 74
Words: 300,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverskye13/pseuds/Silverskye13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war between humans and monsters has been raging for as long as Grillby can remember - which isn't saying much. He was summoned to fight in it after all. As crazy as war is however, it gets a little bit crazier when he meets a certain prodgious skeleton by the name of Gaster. The friendship is rocky, their surroundings even rockier. And a whole knew wrench is thrown in the works when a human emerges with enough control of their Determination to meddle with time.</p>
<p>(This fic expands on my Wartime headcanon for Grillby in a previous fic I've written called "Phantom Pains". You definitely don't need to read that one first to understand this one. They are companions, and can function as individual pieces. But if you wanted to know more of my thoughts on the wartime Grillby stuff I touched on there, this is where you'll find it!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Today It Started Raining A Little Harder

Somewhere in the world, monsters and humans were fighting. Somewhere in the world, monsters and humans were dying. This was a fact of the world they lived in, and it was one that every monster took with a grimace and a grain of salt. This was how the world had been for the past several years. This was how the world would likely always be. Until one or the other of the races gave up, or were destroyed. Or perhaps both.

Somewhere in the world, monsters and humans were bleeding. Somewhere in the world, monsters and humans were falling. Somewhere in the world, the darkness was smothering out countless souls - the night a bountiful provider for those prone to ambush and assassination and the mercilessly strangling vice that kept those resting and wounded pinned helplessly. The night shouldn’t be this dark, this vile and gripping. Somewhere in the world, there was an elemental that should be fighting, snuffing out a bit of the power of the darkness as it met monster kind. Somewhere in the world, there was an elemental that should be saving countless monster lives and reaping double the lives of the humans who struggled so mightily against them.

But on this particular dark night, this particular elemental was in fact _not_ fighting. His armor sat on the floor inside his tent, polished meticulously and removed of all signs of marks or rust or blood. His shield sat beside it, cleaned and buffed with the same painstaking effort as a craftsman putting the final touches on their masterpiece. His sword, likewise, a work of precision and perfection that came from fastidious and almost obsessive care. There was no sign of fight in them tonight, and there wouldn’t be for the next day or so, much to the elemental’s chagrin.

For this was a fire elemental, a powerful being with quick wit and solemn demeanor. And though a great asset to monster kind everywhere, he had one glowering weakness. And that glowering weakness made his core shiver with every nervous step he paced about his tent. Every footstep drowned out by the sound of his inability as it pattered around him outside the meager protection his tent provided.

Somewhere in the world, monsters were dying. Somewhere in the world, he should be stopping that from happening. But unfortunately, here in this particular elemental’s more immediate world, it was raining. For fire elementals, there was no greater Achilles heel than water, especially the kind that dumped mercilessly from the sky on autumn evenings much like this one. And though this particular fire elemental quite enjoyed the rain, the smells and sounds it brought and the life it encouraged, he was forced to hate it when it kept him from battle. After all, battle was the only thing he’d been summoned to do. What should he do with himself when he wasn’t allowed to do it?

So he polished his armor and his shield and his sword. And when he’d polished it at least seven times, he sat it down with maximum care and paced. He walked circles in the ground to the sound of the falling rain; he sighed at it and jumped when it sounded to be slowing. But inevitably he paced again, and he pined away for the chance to be useful. And his friend and escort watched him, mending his hammer from where he sat on the floor of the tent. He stayed well back away from the pacing elemental, though he had a keen smile on his face as he watched his nervous friend walk. The hammer-wielding monster paused in his repair work, stroking thoughtfully at a small pointed beard and shifting his weight beneath an armored turtle shell.

“You keep going like you are, Grillby and you’re liable to pace a hole right through the earth itself,” he said with a sharp bark of laughter, causing a pause in the elemental’s step but unable to stop the endless circling completely, “You’re going to have to learn to except days like this sooner or later. Might as well practice in it now.”

Grillby threw a pair of fiery hands in the air in reply, exasperation written in the flail of his body and the narrowing of his eyes even if he had no other real facial features to show it.

“I feel so _useless_ Gerson!” the elemental said with a deep sigh that was hardly a step away from a growl, “I should be out there _helping_ them! Asgore shouldn’t have gone through with the offensive tonight. He should’ve waited!”

Gerson through his head back in a rolling laugh, earning a scowl from Grillby, “This war has gone on long before you were summoned, and it will continue long after you and I are both dust, I’m sure. Well… probably I before you, if I’m completely honest. You elementals have such a strange way about time.”

Gerson let out another chuckle, “One offensive with you stuck behind the front lines won’t lose us this war. Besides, I hear there’s a couple strong names aiding the ranks tonight, Lady Thetis for a start.”

“Ha!” Grillby snorted, finally stopping his feverish pacing to glower down at the turtle monster, “Of course they’d take Thetis! She’s a fish!”

“Aye, but it ain’t her gills that’s killing humans, Grillby,” Gerson said with a grin, “Like it or not, those spears of hers could rival your fire on even the worst days. She’s brash I know, but you’ll get used to her.”

Grillby waved a hand at this, “Oh sure. As soon as I get used to hearing her rant about the pointlessness in elementals. I have a _soul_ just like she does. It’s not my fault it’s a little harder to snuff out than hers.”

“Thetis is proud, Grillby. She thinks we’re on the same level as humans as far as power goes,” Gerson reminded the elemental goodnaturedly, “Monsters of your caliber who only feel pain or weakness from one specific thing make her feel like we’re cheating. You make her uncomfortable. She doesn’t have a mean-spirited bone in her body though, she’ll warm up to you eventually.”

Grillby crossed his arms stubbornly, glowering, “I’d rather she not! She’s loud and reckless and just about everything she touches explodes at some point or another!”

Gerson shook his head, turning his attention back down to his battered hammer. The shaft of the two-handed war hammer was cracked after it had given a glancing blow to a human shield. Gerson had been weaving magic through it all night in the hopes of repairing it, and had succeeded in stitching some of the wood back together crudely. It was likely to shatter next time he used it - assuming he didn’t find a real smith to fix it before he and Grillby were deployed to the front lines again. He worked again for a few minutes on one of the thicker portions of the crack, scowling to himself when his magic fizzled about it rather uselessly.

“Well, since you’re already in a foul mood, I suppose giving you more bad news won’t make it worse,” Gerson said with a disappointed huff as he sat the battered weapon aside. Grillby’s scowl shrank into something less angry and a little more worried.

“Bad news?” he echoed.

“Aye my friend,” Gerson said with a tired smile as he got to his feet, “I sat in with the council today, and it’s been decided I’m to be promoted. Starting tomorrow I’ll be at the head of my own company of fifty, and have been given the most honorable title of Hammer of Justice.”

Gerson cracked a somewhat bitter grin, “Though I’ll have to fix my hammer again before I do too much more justice-ing again.”

Grillby blinked at Gerson, a thrill rippling through him and turning his normally bright orange into excited hues of yellow and white.

“What? But that’s amazing news, Gerson! You should be out celebrating!” Grillby said enthusiastically, his whole body grinning, “Why do you say all that is bad news? Well… I admit being on the front lines as a commander will be dangerous… but still! Shouldn’t you be excited for this?”

Gerson chuckled, “You still haven’t gotten it, have you lad? I’m being reassigned.”

He poked Grillby’s chest gently with a scaly finger, “ _You_ on the other hand, are _not_. They’ll be giving you a new escort.”

“...oh.” Grillby deflated, his fire burning cool and low, “That’s bad news.”

“I wager it’s about as bad as you plan on making it,” Gerson said, trying to keep his voice light, “But it will be difficult for you. Most monsters don’t take well to erm…”

Gerson flashed an apologetic smile, “Well, you _summoned_ ones.”

Grillby rubbed his arm self-consciously, “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between them, spattered with the sound of falling rain. Grillby sighed, shifted on his feet uncomfortably, and turned to resume his pacing. This time it was less a restless motion and more a cathartic one, and Gerson didn’t stop him. He held a cool smile on his face and watched the elemental move around the tent again.

“Do you at least know who is replacing you?” Grillby mused, glancing in Gerson’s direction as he walked. The turtle monster crossed his arms and smirked.

“I do in fact,” he said with a chuckle, “That would be Lady Amathea.”

“She sounds familiar.”

“She should, lad. Amathea the Brave. She would be Thetis’ older sister, if I recall correctly.”

“Oh _joy_ ,” Grillby groaned, slapping a hand to his face.

“Don’t be like that, now,” Gerson said warningly, “Amathea is a very proud and dignified woman, and quite the war hero in her own right. With her as your escort you’re sure to see plenty action and plenty more glory. You know she had her own company before she lost her arm.”

Grillby sighed, “Yes and I’m sure she’s just as loud and bawdy as her sister.”

Gerson shook his head, laughing quietly, “You’ll like her Grillby, don’t judge her yet.”

Silence sank between them again for a moment before the turtle monster continued, “You know she’s got another monster already in her charge right now.”

“So I’m _sharing_ an escort then?”

Gerson shrugged, “Desperate times lad. They can’t be throwing _all_ their powerful monsters onto the back lines to serve as escorts. But look on the bright side now; you’ll finally get to meet another elemental.”

“That’s… true,” Grillby said after a pause, “It’d be nice to see someone else… up close. Instead of watching them work from the other side of a battlefield.”

“That’s the spirit,” Gerson chuckled, slapping Grillby encouragingly on the back, “You’ll be fine. Now, I’m going to see if any of the smiths are still working in this blasted weather. Do you need anything while I’m gone?”

Grillby shook his head. He received a nod in return, and Gerson disappeared out into the storm without another word. Thunder rumbled dimly, and Grillby grimaced. He looked up at the ceiling of his tent; making sure water hadn’t pooled or forced the canvas to sag anywhere. He didn’t need to be doused in the middle of the night while he was resting. When he was sure the sky wasn’t going to start falling down on him, Grillby let out an exasperated sigh and flopped onto the ground, staring up at the ceiling from the center of one of the paths he’d paced in the dirt. His life was already crazy enough. He didn’t need more change thrown into the mix. Grillby’s light dimmed as he breathed, his core growing cooler as he put himself to sleep.

Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day, assuming the rain would stop long enough to let him live it.


	2. I'll follow your lead on this one good buddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little world building and rule setting.  
> And getting to know Gerson. I always imagined he has the loveable sort of bawdy enthusiasm that all the good heros have before the villain inevitably throws it down the drain.
> 
> Bear with me with the exposition guys! I promise you tons of action and funny things later.

Grillby’s fire came crawling back to life with the dawn, the sound of movement in the camp around him rousing him. The sound of the camp, and _not_ the sound of rain. That made for a pleasant morning. He yawned and stretched, his flame stoking from his dull and resting red to a vibrant yellow, rolling a pleasant heat through the air. Gerson groaned from where his cot sat at the far end of the tent, stirring as the warmth from Grillby’s heat sent the cold-blooded monster pitching back into wakefulness. The elemental got to his feet, brushing dirt off his tunic.

“I see you got your hammer fixed,” Grillby said groggily as he stifled another yawn. The hammer had returned to its former glory - shimmering slightly from magical reinforcements the smith had managed to work in late the night before. Whoever Gerson had found to work on the weapon last minute had done a remarkable job given the short amount of time it had taken them to work. Gerson mumbled some kind of an incomprehensible affirmation into his arm tiredly - yes the hammer had indeed been fixed at some point in the night, how wonderful that you noticed. Outside of that though, he made no move to stir from where he slept. The elemental chuckled.

“You sure they picked the right monster for that whole ‘commander’ thing? You seem to prefer sleeping to - what was it again? Oh right - _Justice_ -ing.”

Gerson gave a tired laugh as he slowly pulled himself to his feet, “Well heaven help us if the justice-ing needs done at the crack of dawn.”

Gerson stretched, various joints popping and cracking as he did so. He took his time smoothing wrinkles and creases out of his clothes and stretching just about every other muscle in his body that could possibly be stretched. Then he stumbled out of the tent, waving for Grillby to follow.

The elemental fell into step shortly behind him as he emerged into the cool autumn morning. It was a dreary, damp sort of morning. The rain had been replaced by a delicate, misting drizzle that was more fog than actual rain. It teased at Grillby’s flame uncomfortably, setting a burning hum to his magic that almost hurt. He stoked his core a bit in the hopes that the water would start evaporating before it hit him. There was a breeze as well, though Grillby was unbothered by it. Being made of fire meant he always felt comfortably warm - though he did notice that Gerson stayed a few steps closer to him than normal, appreciating the portable heat source. The day wasn’t all too dreary, Grillby noticed with a pleasant flicker of his flame. The sun peaked through several gaps in the clouds, gilding the camp and surrounding hillsides in soft oranges and golds.

The camp was a large one, nestled quite nicely in the valley between two hills. At the crown of each hill, bruised and desolate against the brightening sun, stood lookout posts. The skeletal structures took advantage of the higher ground, spying out across the horizon at any human movements that might be striking up nearby. Today the lookouts would be much less worried about humans, however, and watching more keenly instead for the converging of several new companies of monsters as they traveled their way east to the rolling hills and forests beyond. East was where the main battles were held, the monsters trying harder and harder to stifle the rising tide of war before it scattered them against Mt. Ebott to the west.

This particular camp was one of several key training and summoning grounds. With each new company that settled into it, it spat another out bristling and ready to fight. Like a matron it nursed the wounded that returned to it back for help, or held their dust should they fall in it’s embrace. Grillby himself had come and gone from this place several times already, following Gerson whenever his company was sent to the front lines and returning again when the battle was over. He enjoyed the safety this placed offered, the familiarity. It was the closest thing to home he’d ever had. He’d been summoned here, after all.

Grillby followed Gerson obediently to the mess tent - the tent soaring higher and stretching longer than any other structure in the entire camp. The cooks had already struck up a breakfast and lines had started to form around cauldrons filled to the brim with bubbling, energizing stews. Grillby ignored nervous glances in his direction when he entered the tent and cringed away from monsters that otherwise weren’t paying enough attention to shuffle away from him as he passed. He didn’t need to start off the morning by accidentally burning anyone. Gerson chuckled when Grillby let out a flustered huff.

They approached the cauldrons at a crawl, everyone too tired and weary from the foul weather to even rush for the warm food. Gerson took his portion with a thankful nod, chatting happily with the monster behind the cauldron as he waited for Grillby to be served as well. The fire elemental got double the amount Gerson did, which was normal. But Grillby still felt self-conscious toting two bowls out of the line instead of one. Other monsters eyed his portion hungrily but not jealously. Elementals were powerful monsters after all. Even if no one truly knew how they worked, the extra food seemed to fit into some made up magical logic. He was constantly burning something to stay alive, so he should have more energy to burn.

Grillby followed Gerson step-by-step as the warrior settled at a table, offering as he always did for Grillby to set beside him. And just as he always did Grillby refused, taking note of the nervous looks his presence brought around the wooden tables and oiled canvas. He wanted to tell everyone he could control his fire well enough to sit or stand wherever he pleased. He wanted them to know his touch didn’t burn unless he wanted it to, just like their magic didn’t hurt without intent. But there was this tiny voice in the back of his head that told him not to reassure them. The tiny voice told him if he lost control for even a second this place would go up like dry tinder, and he’d have proven himself wrong and proven everyone else right. So instead he sunk to the ground, wincing slightly at how damp the earth was, and sipped on his breakfast with a quiet facade of contentment. Gerson shrugged and began wolfing down his meal, occasionally peppering it with smatterings of tired conversation across the table.

The weather was hell last night wasn’t it? Heard it made fighting on the front rough. Sure they’re probably fine, but my brother’s fiance’s getting worried because that letter they’ve been waiting on is late. Heard the humans and their mages are getting a little more ambitious. Starting to really worry about the elementals we’re throwing at them. What? No your friend will be fine I’m sure. Maybe we should switch to something lighter? Heard there’s to be a wedding tomorrow. There’s a nice grove of trees just out of camp and they’re setting up over there. Did you tell them you were promoted yet? You were? That’s fantastic!

Grill by listened and ate and waited, casually soaking in bits and pieces of news as the monsters in the tent talked around him. Gerson wasn't long, the camp division of work prompting everyone into motion an hour after daybreak. Monsters left to dig latrines, gather food, dump trash and do laundry. They left to hone their skills, get clothing and weapons mended and prepare for the incoming units before they converged on the camp. Gerson and Grillby were spared from most of these duties - Gerson’s status as an escort meaning he had more important things to attend to then the menial work the average soldier did.

The turtle monster lead the way once again, striding a bit faster now that he had a meal behind him to get him ready for the morning. Grillby noticed with a happy flicker that the misting had stopped, replaced by a pleasant warmth as a patch of sun lit the valley. They left for the command tent, Gerson receiving more in depth instructions as to his reassignment. Then they left for the training grounds - a large and bitterly lifeless field of dirt used to practice magical and physical attacks and drill units in how to battle in unison with one another. Here they waited for the rest of Gerson's old company to converge after their morning duties. Normally the two would be sparring - Gerson fulfilling one of his key roles as escort in keeping Grillby fit for battle and making sure he was in control of his magic. This particular morning, however, Gerson spent the time rereading through the documents involving his reassignment.

“Alright,” the turtle monster sighed without looking up from the papers he clutched in his hands, “There's to be a small promotion ceremony before lunch it looks like. I'll have to find Amathea for you before then.”

“Find her?” Grillby asked from where he'd settled onto the ground, “She's not in the camp?”

Gerson shook his head, “She's been moving from unit to unit with her charge. Now that she’s escorting you as well, they'll probably settle her here permanently. I'd wager she's with the incoming units now.”

Gerson took a second to glance up at the sky, trying to gauge the time as best he could given the cloud cover.

“They should be here soon,” he finally said vaguely. Grillby nodded.

“You know, Amathea and I trained together? Before you were summoned and all. Back when I was still just a regular,” the turtle monster said with a chuckle, “Didnt ever get to know her too well. She wasn't much of a people person. But I'm sure she’ll warm up to you.”

Grillby snorted at the obvious pun, “Good to know.”

The fire elemental shrugged, “I'm not worried too much about her. I'm worried about _you_.”

His flame gave a nervous crackle as he laughed, “You're not allowed to die out there. Remember that alright?”

Gerson let out an enthusiastic _wa-ha-ha!_ of laughter, beaming down at Grillby with a wide grin, “Are you kidding? The humans won't know what hit ‘em! Just you wait Grillby, the Hammer of Justice will make humans shake in their shoes when they hear its name.”

Grillby laughed, “You do that.”

The two shared a companionable silence, broken by an enthusiastic yell from across the training yard. Grillby got to his feet as Gerson’s unit began arriving in bits and pieces. Monsters laughed excitedly with him, congratulated him on his promotion and wished him luck on the battle front. Gerson answered them with teasing and the melancholy sort of happiness that came from parting company. There were prayers of safety and strength said, good-natured bets exchanged on when they'd all meet again. Someone decided they should all go out for drinks after the promotion ceremony.

Some of the monsters spoke with Grillby as well, more used to his presence than most of the rest of the camp. His service with them had brought fond memories and warm nights and they were loathe to see either him or Gerson go - though Gerson’s lively personality would be the more sorely missed of the two of them. There were smiles and luck wished with his new escort. Someone joked about having to learn how to start a fire and cook their own food now that Grillby wouldn't be there to help while they were in the field. It was a pleasant and bittersweet exchange, cut short only when Gerson’s former commander demanded they all join together for one last drill run before Gerson had to get cleaned up for his promotion ceremony.

The Hammer of Justice moved to oblige with enthusiasm when a trumpet call cut him off. All heads turned to the sound of the blast - the horn blower giving three long calls. Grillby flickered nervously.

“Looks like the new units have arrived,” Gerson hummed, “Looks like we’ll be cutting this short.”

The turtle monster beamed at Grillby, “Ready to meet your new escort?”

The elemental shook his head, eliciting a round of laughter from the monsters gathered. He chuckled himself before departing, one last round of goodbyes echoing after him and Gerson as they left. There was a frenzy about the camp as they walked, monster soldiers running out to meet the new companies. The incoming monsters probably didn’t realize it, but they were the largest source of news and change the sleepy camp ever got. They got with them goods from home, still fresh and good for trade. Items to read, fresh clothing and fresh tools for mending the old with, foods packed by families bidding fond farewells. Warm comforts that the more battle worn monsters of the camp often lacked.

As the crowded camp swarmed to life Grillby’s fired quelled in nervous tension, made uncomfortable by the closeness the world seem to press in around him. It was bearable, but he never enjoyed it. And from the sideways glances some monsters pitched in his direction, he made them just as uncomfortable. He tried not to let it bother him. Instead he focused on the main road of the camp as it was cleared, watching monster soldiers and families alike as they cleared the way for new units to come marching through. And march through they did! All assembled in rank and file, looking official in their relatively new uniforms. The commanders rode horses, the beastly creatures picking their way gingerly but pridefully across the ground. Their nostrils flared and ears twitched at the new sights and sounds, tiredly curious about this place they’d been led into.

Behind them came the units, an assortment of monsters of every imaginable shape, size and species. They were footsore but content, well trained enough to resist the urge to look out at the crowd of people edging the road. A few of them glanced sideways at Grillby as they passed, stoic expressions replaced for a moments by looks of question and intrigue. Very few of them had ever seen an elemental before. Grillby faintly wondered if he should be flattered.

Gerson was suddenly elbowing him, smiling excitedly, “Oh! There! There you see! _That’s_ Amathea.”

Grillby followed the direction Gerson was pointing, blinking quietly at the monster when he finally spotted her. She resembled Thetis - or what Grillby remember of Thetis - fairly strikingly. She took the vibrant red and turquoise scales their family line seemed to carry, eyes shining unnaturally yellow against them. She was indeed missing an arm, and even from the distance Grillby stood at he could see changes in the color of her scales on her neck and face to indicate scarring. This didn’t detract from her at all though, instead molding her into a proud and stoic visage. Something that looked nearly legendary. She’d run through fire and come out undying. It was impressive and intimidating all at once. Her hair hung in a loose braid, the red fibers threading together and ending just below the small of her back. Her ear fins were ripped and twitched delicately as she walked. Her mouth was a firm frown.

Grillby felt his fire sputter into a cooled red-orange.

“She’s terrifying.”

Gerson thumped Grillby on the back with a happy laugh, “Well of course she is! That woman has seen more fighting than you or I a hundred times over.”

“I thought you said you trained in the same class?”

“Aye we did!” Gerson chuckled, his voice humbling some as he continued, “And she outclassed everyone there. She’s a strong fighter. I’ve never seen such powerful magic… outside of you that is. And she has the mind of a tactician, a brilliant one. After a handful of sweeping victories she was promoted in a heartbeat. Even after she lost her arm they had to force her to join a company on the back lines.”

There was a crackle of a laugh in Grillby’s fire, and Gerson frowned.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just wondering if the fair lady realizes she has such a committed admirer,” Grillby said, nudging Gerson playfully with his elbow. The turtle monster blinked at him speechlessly for a moment, opening his mouth once to say something before deciding against it at the last moment. He snorted and twisted his face into a frown.

“Come on Grillby, it’s not like that at all!” he chirped, crossing his arms indignantly, “She’s a hero, is all I’m trying to say.”

“Oh yes a great one indeed,” Grillby said, his voice deadly serious, “And you’re quite heroic for pursuing her.”

He burst out in happy laughter when Gerson punched him hard on the shoulder. It didn’t hurt, though Grillby felt a ripple run through his flame from the impact. Monsters nearby shuffled away from them slightly, unsure if an actual fight was about to break out or not. Gerson gave Grillby a ferocious glare, though the elemental chuckled at the blush that rosied his green face.

“Oh you know I’m just teasing,” Grillby said finally, trying to put his friend at ease, “Did you happen to see the elemental with her?”

Gerson grumbled a begrudging ‘no’ before turning his attention back to the incoming units. They were nearing the end of the parade now, supply wagons drawn by animals and monsters alike taking up the rear of the line as they plodded down the road. The crowd around them began to disperse a bit, the rush of excitement dying down as they went to help the newcomers pitch tents and brush down animals. Others left to prepare wares to trade, or resume daily chores they’d just gotten done procrastinating. Gerson waved for Grillby to follow him.

“Come on,” Gerson said with a bitter smirk, “Let’s go get you and the lady introduced so I can get ready for my ceremony.”

Grillby crackled in a final chuckle before falling in step behind Gerson once again. He tried to stamp down his nervousness as they went, feeling his fire get brighter and hotter as he became just inches more emotional. He didn’t want Gerson to leave, but at the same time he was happy for him. He didn’t want to change escorts but he knew he had no choice in the matter.

Life was becoming interesting. Grillby wasn’t sure if he liked it yet.


	3. Well that just got interesting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet a few important people... and some of them make Grillby a little uncomfortable.

“Well this turned into chaos quickly,” Grillby said with a nervous flicker.

He and Gerson stood against one of the permanent tents of the camp, watching with mild amusement as the new companies rushed to pitch tents and organize roll calls before the lunch call would inevitably disperse them and lose them to the crowded camp. Watching them work could only be comparable to watching thousands of ants as they rushed to repair a disturbed anthill. The massive group of possibly two hundred monsters worked and scurried with a frantic hurry that might have been productive from a smaller number, but en masse only seemed to cause confusion and dissonance. Grillby thought with an odd sort of amusement that if they’d just slow down for a few steps and organize themselves they might move faster. Or at least look more like a cohesive unit instead of a congealed mass. There was order there, he knew. Even as he watched tents were raising and companies were gathering even in spite of the rush of movement.

“Give ‘em an hour and it’ll look like they’ve been here for years,” Gerson said in belated reply, pulling himself away from the engrossing disorder before them. He scanned over the moving crowd, gaze pausing momentarily on commanders as they directed monsters every which way, searching for Amathea and coming back short. He sighed out an exasperated breath and waved Grillby forward.

“Alright let’s see if we can find your escort in this mess.”

Grillby hesitated, crackling nervously at the sight of the crowd. Grillby rolled his eyes and gave the elemental a forceful shove, sending him staggering forward a few steps with an indignant crackle.

“They’re more scared of you than you are of them,” Gerson said with a chuckle, for once falling in step behind the flustered elemental instead of the other way around, “They’ll part for you better than they will for me. I see one of the commanders ahead there. Ask her if she knows which company Amathea was supposed to gather with.”

Grillby paused long enough to lock his gaze on a particularly imposing lizard monster as she directed a handful of young monsters hefting shovels - likely off to dig latrines or some other such functionally necessary task. Grillby sighed a harsh breath, his flame billowing about him a little larger and brighter, before stepping into the current of a crowd as it rushed about him and away from the relative safety from where he’d been onlooking. He somewhat sensed Gerson following him, stepping just close enough that anyone who was forced to move aside for Grillby would still be out of the way when Gerson passed as well.

The effect Grillby had on the bustling movement was a thing he didn’t think he’d ever fully get used to. Soldiers once intent on their tasks halted when his light burst into their peripherals. Hammers paused a bit longer in their fall to meet stakes and anchors. Conversations trailed into silence for a moment, footsteps stammered. Glances were cast and even orders found a second to lapse. And of course, as to be expected, monsters stepped back away from him in an extended effort to not so much as graze past him.

And though he flickered nervously, feeling very much like a spectacle or stage show, only Gerson could tell it. No one else here knew the subtle ripples he gave were because he was uncomfortable, or that the brightening of his flame was in nerves instead of pride. And he had no real facial features to betray any of these things. Even though walking suddenly felt unnatural and his presence something to be tolerated with muted amazement. But of course, Grillby had to remind himself that the soldiers here were new. They’d never fought before - elementals and other summoned beings were practically the stuff of legends to them. Even humans were an abstract concept, not yet fully realized or filled with intent. It was only natural for them to stare, even it it came at the expense of his comfort.

The monster Grillby was purposed on saw him coming long before she would ever see any other soldier. She flashed him a grim smile, more used to being close to a powerful monster than her recruits. She may have even fought with one before. Grillby was grateful for how casually she watched him, how her body stayed relaxed instead of rigid and nervous as he approached. He stopped before her, crossing an arm over his chest and bowing slightly in a salute. Gerson stopped beside him and mirrored the gesture.

“Grillby, Elemental of the 35th division,” he introduced himself as he straightened, “I’m here for my reassignment. I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of a Commander Amathea.”

The monster nodded, ushering to the west of where her company pitched their tents, “Amathea was traveling with the 52nd division, that’s Brigg’s monsters there. He’s one of them dragon-types. Hard to miss. He’ll know where she’s throwing her tent up.”

Grillby’s flame churned thankfully, blues weaving their way amidst the oranges and yellows he normally flared.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she grinned pleasantly, and Grillby noticed gaps where some of her sharpened teeth had been lost through the years, “I’ve heard a lot about you and your escort from the back lines there. Keep up the good fight, yeah?”

Grillby nodded, and she dismissed him with a final smirk. Gerson fell in step behind him again as he parted the slowly organizing crowd. Even in the last few minutes more tents had been raised and some of the monsters were beginning to disperse. Though Grillby was still uncomfortable. He could feel eyes on him from every angle and it made him feel like the mist from earlier that morning was still burning through him. It made his core shiver and his soul pulse awkwardly.

Brigg was indeed easy to find, once they’d finally located his side of the camp. The dragon monster was massive, towering over most every other monster there by at least a foot, possibly more. Wings, uselessly small but tipped with angry looking claws, fluttered emphatically as he shouted orders, moving with his arms as he directed monsters to and fro. When he spotted Grillby, he flashed him a snarl that could curdle milk.

“Good morning sir,” Grillby said politely, purposefully ignoring the glare. Though he made it a point to forgo his previous formality of a bow and salute, “I’m Grillby of the -”

“I know who you are, _elemental_ ,” the commander cut him off abruptly, a growl in his throat, “You’re looking for your babysitter, right?”

Grillby felt himself flush, a wave of heat disturbing his flame as he crackled indignantly. Gerson shifted uneasily behind him, taking a step back away from the now uncomfortable warmth. If Brigg noticed the change, he stubbornly ignored it.

“I’m here for my _escort_ ,” Grillby responded, biting back the edge in his voice, “Commander Amathea. I was told she was among your unit.”

Brigg snorted, smoke curling out of flared nostrils. He jerked his thumb back, pointing over his shoulder and past a flailing wing that attempted to mirror the motion.

“She’s on the far edge of the camp that direction. Try not to burn anything on your way over.”

Grillby left without another word, still bristling from the curtness of the exchange.

“The _nerve_ of some people,” he huffed furiously when they were out of earshot. He fumed as he walked, his fire rippling and hissing in an agitated and emotional indignance. The moisture in the ground at his feet steamed slightly as he passed, leaving small billows of smoke-like heat that wisped in a trail behind him as he walked. A few more monsters than before stopped to stare at him, concern and awe mingling with what had previously just been curiosity.

“Grillby,” Gerson’s voice pitched low warningly, “Calm it down.”

Grillby bit back a very childish _‘why should I?’_ in response. Instead he growled out a long sigh, taking back control of his flame and batting down the heat to a more comfortable level for the monsters around him. Gerson stepped a little closer to him as he did so, patting the elemental on the back cautiously.

“There you go,” he hummed, “You’re fine. You know, he strikes me as the kind of monster who talks down to everybody anyway. Don’t take it personally.”

“A babysitter,” Grillby muttered bitterly, though he still managed to keep his flame in check, “He said I needed a _babysitter_. Is that all you escorts _are?_ ”

“Of course not,” Gerson said pleasantly, “That would imply that you can’t take care of itself - which you can. We’re just around to make sure you’re coping with society well. And don’t let petty things set you off.”

“I’ve never been ‘set off’. I’ve never burnt anything I haven’t meant to.”

“I know, I know,” Gerson chuckled, “But other elementals have before. It’s just our way of being cautious.”

Grillby swallowed any other comment he could make, focusing instead on the task of finding his next _babysitter_ \- oh he was going to be seething over _that_ for a while. He weaved his way through a handful of pitched tents, stepping cautiously around monsters and their scattered belongings as they organized themselves. The crowd was thinning, monsters either busying themselves with unpacking their bags in their portable homes or running out to trade or get an early lunch. After the units came in, they were generally given the rest of the day to get acclimated, figure out where things were and relax from the trip. Grillby saw a few of them writing letters to family, telling of the safe arrival.

Finally they broke free of the ranks and lines of tents and spotted what they were searching for - a large tent pitched beneath two trees just outside of the normal camp space. Amathea stood outside it, her back to the pair as they approached. Her fist was planted sternly on her hip as she looked at the tent, gauging whether it was pitched sturdily enough and whether or not she should move it. Grillby’s previous anger twisted around in his core, turning into something that much more resembled nervousness.

“Amathea the Brave!”

Grillby jumped at the sudden yell from Gerson, the turtle monster beaming as he stepped forward to pass the started elemental. Amathea turned to face them, frowning - though Grillby noticed it was from confusion instead of any ill intent. Her ear frills twitched as she waited for them to approached. arms crossing impatiently.

“I know you,” she said matter-of-factly when Gerson stopped before her, “We trained together didn’t we?”

“Gerson, newly promoted Hammer of Justice,” the turtle monster bowed to her as he introduced himself, “I admit I’m surprised you remember me. We didn’t speak much.”

“I never forget a face,” something in her eyes gleamed pridefully, though the rest of her expression remained stern, “Good to see someone from my class is finally joining the commander rank.”

Amathea switched her gaze away from Gerson, settling those piercing yellow eyes on Grillby, “And you’re my new charge, I’ll bet.”

Grillby jolted when she shoved her arm forward in his direction. He blinked at it, marveling at the fact that she’d actually offered him a hand shake. He took it cautiously - and awkwardly, as she shook with her left hand.

“Grillby,” he said simply, “It’s an honor to meet you.”

She gave his arm a firm shake, the barest of smiles twitching at the corners of her mouth, “Well met then. I’d reintroduce myself but it would seem you’re already acquainted with my name at least.”

Amathea shot Gerson a look, and the turtle monster gave a _wahaha!_ of laughter in response. Grillby couldn’t help but feel a little awestruck by his nonchalance in the face of her fierce seriousness. Even while smiling Amathea exuded a kind of blaring confidence that he was sure could part seas at her command.

“I’m forgetting something,” Amathea’s annoyed mumble cut off Grillby’s thoughts. She replaced her fist on where it had been on her hip, and then rolled her eyes. With a quick snap, she faced the direction of the tent again, gills and frills flaring as she took in a harsh breath.

“ _GASTER!”_

Both Grillby and Gerson jumped at the bellow. The two exchanged a look, Gerson’s noticeably more impressed than Grillby’s. A shadow suddenly tumbled through the tent Amathea had set up, stumbling over their feet as the staggered for the exit. Grillby felt his entire flame flush with excitement. Excitement that immediately wiped itself away as the figure lurched out of the tent. Tall and lanky and almost fragile looking. He towered almost a head taller than Amathea, and straightened out what looked to be the long black clothing a doctor would wear. Long black sleeves nearly obscured skeletal hands, which practically glowed white in comparison to his clothing. The robe-like tunic dropped past his knees, flaring out around similarly dark breeches. As he straightened, the monster glared at Amathea. Grillby felt a jolt of surprise as his gaze traced a long crack extending from the monster’s broken right eye, ending jaggedly somewhere around the back of his skull.

He was a skeleton. Very much _not_ an elemental.

“Woman if you’d give me six minutes of _peace_ ,” the skeleton, Gaster, said with a condescending huff, “I might actually be able to get some _work done_.”

His arms moved rapidly as he talked, nearly signing out what he said with emphatic gestures and sweeping movements. It was grand and unsettling.

“Oh hush, you were probably napping anyway,” Amathea snorted, turning to once again face Grillby and Gerson, “Gentlemen, meet my current charge. Wing Ding Gaster.”

Gerson chuckled, “Wing Ding?”

“Family name,” the skeleton shrugged, “Hilarious right?”

Gaster’s eyes suddenly widened - the broken right one widening ever so slightly in unison with the other. A light sparked there, bright and curious as his eyes rested on Grillby. A quizzical smile snaked across his features, and he leaned forward a bit. Grillby stifled the reflex to take a step back away.

“Well aren’t you interesting?”

Amathea backhanded Gaster across the shoulder, cutting him off before he could say anything else.

“Don’t be rude. He’s a monster, not a science project,” she said patronizingly, and Gaster flashed her an amused grin.

“Well yes of course,” he said with a wave of his hands before turning his attention back to Grillby, “I’ve just… never met one of _this kind_ before.”

He offered a long hand to Grillby, his smile kind but unnerving. Grillby shook it hesitantly, wincing as the skeleton seemed to analyze every movement he made as he did so.

“Grillby,” he said simply, and Gaster’s smile widened.

“It’ll be a pleasure to work with you, Grillby. You know, I always did find the concept of you elementals… _fascinating_. Hold still a minute.”

Suddenly he stepped close, leering down at Grillby with the kind of unsettling curiosity that a bird might feel when penned in a birdcage. Grillby shrunk away under his gaze, grimacing in Gerson’s direction and silently pleading for some sort of assistance as Gaster paced around him. The turtle monster just shrugged uncomfortably, seeing no real harm in the exchange. To Grillby’s surprise, it was Amathea who came to his rescue. As soon as Gaster has paced around the elemental once, the fish monster grabbed him by the soul, his whole body flashing with green immobilizing magic.

“Alright weirdling,” Amathea growled, “What did we say about personal space?”

“Oh come _on_ ,” Gaster said indignantly, “He’s an _elemental_.”

“Yeah, and you’re a creep,” came the curt reply, “Personal space. The rest of us have it, even if you don’t.”

She released him, but kept a steely glare on him to keep him from making another move towards Grillby.

“I swear, I don’t know what kind of crazy your parents raised you on,” she huffed, “You’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other while you’re running laps around the camp. Which you _will_ do.”

She looked pointedly at Grillby now, “The rest of the escorts seem to think wild magic has to be tamed. I say it should be tempered. Enjoy the rest of your day’s rest. Because you’ll have none of it for the rest of your stay with me. And _you_.”

Amathea spun on Gerson with a commanding snarl, “Don’t you have somewhere to be? You’ve done your job. Get!”

Gerson gave her a good-natured smile, “Alright alright.”

He gave Grillby one last pat on the back, “It’s been awesome working with you Grillby. Come find me and the unit tonight around supper. We’ll have some fun before I’m shipped off, alright?”

Grillby nodded nervously, “Stay safe Gerson.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” came the laughed reply as Gerson walked off.

Amathea walked after him, slinging a pack over her shoulder as she went, “And I’m off to trade. You two ladies are old enough to take care of yourselves. Be back here by sundown.”

Grillby felt his core sink into his feet, “W-what? But…!”

Grillby sighed, a prickling sensation teasing his flame. Gaster was watching him intently, waiting for something. The elemental’s shoulders sagged, his flame cooling into reds and oranges in dismay and nervousness. Brilliant. He didn’t _want_ to be stuck with Gaster. He’d known the monster for all of a handful of minutes and already he wished he could have been partnered with anyone else. Anyone who didn’t stare at him like some sort of street show attraction. Someone who didn’t radiate unsettling magic, with the gaze of a rook watching a funeral procession.

“You and your friend split a tent, correct?”

Grillby slowly looked up at Gaster, cringing under his stare, “Uhm… yes.”

“Well, we’d better get your belongings moved here,” the skeleton offered, his smile ever present, “Seeing as we have time to kill and all.”

Grillby sighed anxiously, shifting uncomfortably where he stood.

“I can get them myself.”

“Nonsense!” came the enthusiastic reply, “I’ll be bored to death if I don’t do something. And there’s no harm in getting you settled.”

Grillby felt his flame flicker a little dimmer. _Of course_. With a wordless wave, he moved off back towards his side of camp, ushering Gaster to follow. The skeleton fell in step beside him, hands in his pockets and steps prideful and fast. Thought they stood apart, Grillby had the uncanny, crawling feeling that they were far too close. Some part of Gaster must have sensed this. Those bright eyes peered down at him, toothy grin almost permanently fixed to his face.

“Interesting.”


	4. Sir, you're a particular brand of crazy and I need you to tone it down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot of questions are asked and maybe we stop feeling as uncomfortable as before.

If Grillby didn’t feel like an oddity walking through camp, he _definitely_ felt like it now. Though he supposed he shouldn’t be taking all the credit for the various glances and stares in his direction. Gaster by himself could draw in a crowd with his peculiar, borderline eccentric brand of weirdness. A doctor garbed in deathly black, who also just _happened_ to be a skeleton. Possibly the only skeleton in camp, no less. Paired with the only elemental within at least a dozen miles, who already attracted enough attention on his own just by existing.

Grillby tried to ignore it, stepping lightly and flame dim, wishing for not the first time in the last hour that he had been summoned - or even born - as something with much less swagger and grandeur attached to it. Though… he had to admit… he somewhat admired how Gaster seemed perfectly ignorant of all the attention their funny looking pair was attracting. He watched the comings and goings of the camp with eyes that were overzealously curious, as if the world were his observatory and he were the most ambitious beholder of all that transpired within it. His face was ever calcified into that quizzical grin, his gaze uncomfortably intrusive and examining.

Grillby faintly wondered what was going on inside the skeleton’s head, only to dismiss the thought entirely a second later. Honestly? He probably didn’t want to know.

“This place is gigantic,” Gaster observed outloud, waving his arms grandly to express his point, “Not sure I’ve ever been in a camp of quite this size. How in the world do they manage to keep order around here?”

Grillby shrugged, “Mostly on a unit-by-unit basis.”

“How so?”

Grillby could feel that piercing gaze on his flame as Gaster refocused his attention on the elemental. He suppressed a shudder, busying himself with looking very interested in the muddy footpath they were following back to his tent.

“Uh… well… there’s horns that sound off every few hours normally,” Grillby elaborated after an uncomfortable pause, “One’s the dawn call. Depending on your unit you’ll go to roll call then, or breakfast. Most of the incoming units - erm… that would be yours… ours… I suppose - go to roll call first and then cycle into the mess tent afterwards. The next call will have us doing drill, or training. The noon call will go for lunch. Next call is chores. Those will be handed out by the unit commander. Mostly cleaning and laundry, gathering food and water, stuff that makes a camp this size run.

“Erm… the last call is for the nightly roll call and a free time. You can get supper. Some monsters choose to go to the canteen or trade instead, or use the time for anything they didn’t get done during the day. Sleep is a bit relative, given how many different monsters are here. Though I’ve seen monsters punished for being too rowdy after dark. They’ve got a stockade, but no serious crime has happened here in awhile. Most of us are too busy to drink and too tired for unnecessary violence. Gambling is only allowed if the betting isn’t with real coin, and they _do_ have patrols who check.”

Gaster chuckled at this, eyes alight with amusement, “Sounds like you’ve had experience?”

Grillby shook his head, “I watch and I learn.”

“Sounds like a boring existence,” Gaster responded.

Grillby… didn’t quite know how to respond to that. He settled for narrowing the white lights that served as his eyes in a glare, refraining from saying anything. Had the lunch call really not been sounded yet? Was he still less than halfway through his day? He bit back a sigh, his flame rolling off a heightening heat, stirring in annoyance and frustration. Today was going to be _long_ , that much was clear already. Gaster blinked down at the elemental, observant enough to notice Grillby’s change in temperature and countenance all at once.

“What are you thinking?”

Grillby’s flame gave a surprised crackle. He glanced up at the skeleton, his whole body frowning, “What?”

“What are you thinking, right now,” Gaster pressed again. His face was a mask of inquisitive wonder, those eyes gleaming down starlike from the darkness in his sockets. He gave a mischievous grin - apparently Grillby’s expression had changed.

“No, right _now,_ actually.”

“I’m… thinking a lot of things?” Grillby said guardedly, questioningly, flashing the skeleton a wary, sideways glance. He could practically feel Gaster’s his searching interest radiation off of his spindly form, and he flickered nervously as if the movement could brush the stare away.

“Oh come on, name _something_ ,” came the ever pleasant, overly curious response. Grillby felt his core twist into difficult knots.

“Why do you want to know so badly?”

Gaster laughed enthusiastically at this; it was a dry rattling sound that shook his shoulders and shuffled his clothes. It was about the only time that morning that the skeleton had made any noise and hadn’t emphasized the movement dramatically with what Grillby was slowly realizing was some sort of language with his hands. Some of the motions had been repeated when he’d used words twice. The elemental also wondered, cautiously, if maybe the laugh was humorous only and had no ill will to it. At least… Gaster didn’t _seem_ spiteful about Grillby’s reluctance in answering his pestering questions.

“Humor me,” Gaster prodded with his voice and his elbow, nudging Grillby lightly in the side. Grillby… wasn’t sure how much he liked that. This was the third time someone had willingly touched him today outside of Gerson - his old escort being the only monster previously with the… courage…? Common sense really. The common sense to know that Grillby wasn’t going to burn them on contact. He wasn’t used to it. He didn’t like it.

“Alright fine,” Grillby, trying to sigh out some of his tension as he spoke, “One thing?”

“One thing,” came the parroted response.

“You’re weird.”

“How am I weird?” Gaster laughed, his voice pitched in humor but his gaze still deep in that unsettling inquisitiveness that was beginning to grate harder and harder against Grillby’s nerves.

“You said _one_ thing,” the elemental protested stubbornly. This earned him another one of Gaster’s enthusiastic, shuddering laughs.

“You shared one thing, I’m asking you to elaborate on it,” Gaster said nonchalantly, his hands flailing in grand gestures upon the word ‘elaborate’ as if he could encompass the world with them, “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together you know. Why play the ‘mysterious stranger’ card this early in the game?”

“Mysterious… _what_?” Grillby sputtered, “We’ve just barely _met_. You expect to know everything about me before nightfall?”

“Oh heavens no!” Gaster grinned, waving his hands in such an exaggerated manner that he narrowly missed hitting another monster as they passed. Grillby flinched at the closeness of the call. Gaster continued as if he hadn’t even realized something was amiss - and likely didn’t.

“There is much more to any monster than can ever be learned in a single evening - probably doubly so for a monster of your…” Gaster flashed him an imposing grin, “... type? Caliber? Species perhaps? It’s the newness, the excitement. I can’t help but be curious.”

He chuckled to himself as if he were holding back some grand secret, “And I can guarantee you the more you ignore me, the more annoying I’ll get.”

Grillby didn’t know if he should be offended or attempting to brush off everything his nuisance of a shadow had just said. Was this some kind of a joke? Was he kidding? Or was he seriously just this… honestly Grillby didn’t even know what to call it. Eccentric was probably a good word for it.

“You’re insane,” he finally muttered, watching the skeleton out of the corner of his eye warily. Gaster cackled, clapping a hand down on the elemental’s shoulder and nearly making him jump out of his skin - if he had any. He quickly shoved Gaster’s hand off, his flame crackling rapidly in flustered sputters and sparks.

“And _you_ ,” Gaster grinned, “Take things _way_ too seriously.”

The elemental scrutinized Gaster for a moment, coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of the foot path. He crossed his arms, resisting the urge to tap his foot nervously. Gaster just flashed him that ever present, plastered on grin. After a short pause that was noticeably more tense for the elemental than it was for the skeleton - as ironic as that was - Grillby let out a whining sigh, his soul squirming around inside of him nervously. As uncomfortable as he was he just… couldn’t bring himself to tell off the other monster completely. He’d rather just deal with the harassment then start something that could make it worse. At least for now the skeleton was acting on genuine curiosity.

“Look let’s just… get the whole packing thing over with okay?” Grillby said carefully, picking his words as carefully as one might flowers for a funeral, “Drill me with questions later.”

Gaster stared at him for a minute longer than he really needed to, something in his smile becoming a bit less enthusiastic - though Grillby saw now real change in it. Maybe it was the white pinpricks of his eyes that dimmed just a tad, or a sluggish edge to the movements of his hands as he gave a wordless agreement. Grillby blinked at the strange sort of sign language uncomprehendingly for a moment. Realization slapped him with a jolt and gave a relieved sigh, a flicker of blue glancing through him for a moment before he stepped off with renewed speed.

“Come on, my tent’s just up ahead.”

Gaster walked just a step behind him, and in Grillby’s peripheral he could see the monster signing furiously - though he couldn’t understand an inkling of it. Perhaps when the inevitable string of questions and unquenchable curiosity flared up in the skeleton again, Grillby would ask him what the signing actually meant. As it was now, he had to stomp down the feeling that the monster was talking about him rudely behind his back… _literally_. Maybe he was just… letting of nervous energy. Fidgeting or something. Yeah. That had to be it.

Hopefully.

Grillby lit up pleasantly when his tent finally came into sight, beaming in enthusiastic yellows and oranges at his home. The closest thing to home he’d ever come by, he figured. It was bittersweet knowing he wouldn’t be sharing it with Gerson anymore. But the turtle monster far deserved his promotion, and Grillby could never be anything but proud for him. Without a word Grillby disappeared into the tent, dimming slightly when he realized Gerson’s belongings were already gone - the monster had probably stuffed them into his inventory to store them for later. It was something Grillby now had to do with his own effects, and he got to work immediately.

Grillby packed his armor away neatly, making sure every inch of it was just as spotlessly clean as he’d left it the night before - which of course it was. He bundled the pieces together in groups, trying to take up as little of his space as possible. He only had a limited amount of space in his inventory and he loathed the thought of making multiple trips. He tucked his shield away next, glancing for a second at the prayer of safety etched into the back of it and repeating it in his mind. His sword was next -

“A sword? Really?” Gaster asked, suddenly hovering over Grillby.

Grillby let out a muffled shriek, his flame giving a flare of heat and sparks as he startled for the umpteenth time that morning. He flinched immediately after, expecting to hear some sort of shout of pain from Gaster - only to look up and notice the skeleton standing just far enough back that the flare couldn’t burn him. Grillby blinked at him incredulously.

Had he seriously not been that close or had he actually…?

Grillby scowled, heat rolling off of him in waves, “Would you _not_ sneak up on me like that _please?!”_

Gaster chuckled, hunching over slightly so his head didn’t brush against the top of the tent, “Oh come now, I couldn’t possibly have expected to startle you that easily.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Grillby exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air exasperatedly, “I could’ve seared that grin right off your face just now!”

This gave the skeleton monster pause, and his easygoing smile twitched. Whatever he was thinking, he waved it off almost instantly.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he hummed, “You’re as likely to burn me on accident as I am to hit you with an attack.”

He made a show of brushing off his tunic, Grillby raising a few degrees in temperature in exasperation.

“Look not a single scorch mark. You weren't even close,” Gaster continued with an easygoing smile.

Grillby wondered if the skeleton was insane - or perhaps completely lacking in common sense. He supposed a world could exist where he were both, but that would probably be giving the clueless monster too much credit. Grillby drew a long breath. Well… Maybe… Gaster _had_ mentioned he’d never met an elemental before. Maybe he was just hopelessly ignorant. Yeah. Yeah that had to be it.

“Just…” Grillby huffed out a sigh, cooling back down to an indifferent orange glow. “... Don't go out of your way to tempt fate, okay?”

Gaster barked a laugh, “If accidental dusting were truly my fate I'm sure I'd be spread to the four winds by now.”

Grillby shot the monster what he could manage of a stiff glare. To his mild surprise, Gaster understood the subtle expression. He raise his hands in a placating gesture, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Alright, _alright_. I’ll walk on my absolute tippiest tippy-toes from now on. Reassured?” he said with a chuckle. Grillby gave an exasperated groan and returned to his task of packing. Gaster kept a ‘safe’ distance and inspected the elemental as he packed, emanating his peculiar brand of lackadaisical curiosity all the while.

“I do truly wonder about the sword though,” Gaster hummed, “I was under the assumption that elementals used magical attacks?”

“Well yes,” Grillby answered tersely, standing stiffly after he’d shoved away the last of his belongings. He dusted off the knees of his breeches before turning to walk abruptly from the tent. Gaster followed, shadowing the elemental as he began removing stakes from the ground and slowly tearing down tent piece by piece. Gaster blinked at him as he worked for a moment before crossing over to one of the other anchors and working as well.

“Alright,” Gaster pressed further, smiling to himself as two more pairs of hands materialized in the air beside them, “If you use magic attacks then why a sword? I know some of the less magically inclined monsters take up arms, but I can’t imagine it being much of a help for you. No offense but you reek of strong magic.”

He flashed that grin in Grillby’s direction, “Well, you’re _made_ of strong magic, so I suppose the reek would follow naturally.”

With an unconscious command he set the floating, spectral copies of his hands to work tearing out the remaining anchors and supporting the tent as it was collapsed. Meanwhile, a final pair of the wraithlike hands worked and waved as he spoke, signing out his words for him while his actual hands worked. Grillby watched them as they moved about hypnotically before finally addressing the skeleton’s question.

“Not every problem can be handled with… erm… strong magic?” Grillby answered cautiously.

“Like what?”

Grillby wished he had proper eyes to roll, “Heavens above - why do you _need_ to _know_?”

Gaster chuckled, smiling excitedly as he stepped away from the final anchor holding the tent in place. The entire structure collapsed in on itself, and his ghostly helping hands dissipated as it did, fizzling out of existence with magical hisses. With his now free, normal hands he signed once again as he spoke, the movements precise and defined as if he’d been waiting to answer a question of his own like this all morning.

“Well that’s simple, Grillby,” he said, “Because I don’t know the answer.”

When Grillby said nothing he continued, as if some floodgate in him had burst open and suddenly he needed to tell anything that had ever been on his mind.

“How boring of a world would this be if nobody existed to question how or why it worked? What power grants humans such tenacity in life that we monsters need elementals like yourself to contest? Why does the Sun turn in a disc about the Earth, along with the rest of the celestial plane? Why would a sword with physical attacks benefit a being who is renowned for it’s magical skill? For what purpose were we placed here, in this time, instead of any other? Why exist or why stop existing?”

Gaster laughed as he spoke, radiating a genuine and almost childlike happiness. And as he spoke he worked, using magic to lift and fold the remains of the tent with effortless proficiency. He did the same with the ropes it had been tied with, the anchors and supports, bundling them together and sliding them into his inventory.

“I’ve asked questions like this of the world around me for as long as I can remember,” Gaster said pleasantly, “Because nobody else asks them. I realize to you it’s trivial, and prying. But eventually you will find it is to our mutual benefit. We will eventually be on the battlefield together, you know.”

He piped a laugh at the distressed way Grillby’s flames flushed.

“Yes, a breakable, frail skeleton like me sharing space on the field with a phenomenally powerful and destructive force. A fun concept, yes? I know _I’m_ excited.” He cleared his throat and continued, “But say we’re ever fighting within close proximity to each other and you are forced to draw arms as opposed to using magic. Am I to assume that you’ve exhausted yourself like a regular monster would have for that to be the case? If so, should I also assume you’re near death, as you’re made completely of magical energy and it has doubtlessly been depleted? Or perhaps you have a physical form beneath your magical radiation, and you would revert back to a more vulnerable state, and I should be rushing heroically to your aid?”

He snickered at this, the spastic motioning of his hands stilling for an instant before he continued, “Then there’s always the possibility that absolutely nothing has happened with you and you are using it for a tactical reason. After all, I’ve never seen an elemental before, much less watched them work. I’m running on incomplete assumptions, if you will. Hmm… Are you feeling well, friend? You’re dimming.”

Grillby gave a start, snapping out of the overwhelmed daze that Gaster had managed to ramble him into. He felt like he’d just been hit by a wall of questions - even if most of them weren’t strictly directed towards him. With a flush his light brightened again, and he shook his head as if to clear it.

“When in the _world_ did you find time to think of all that?” Grillby asked, unable to hide the bafflement at the edge of his voice. Gaster just flashed him that lackadaisical grin once again.

“I’ve been told I ask too many questions,” came his simple reply.

Grillby let out a soft “huh”, hands on his sides and mind twirling with bemusement.

“Alright then, scholar,” he motioned to what Gaster was wearing, “Or should I say _doctor_. My turn for questions. If you’re such an intellectual, how did you find yourself in a training camp, under the charge of who I’m told is one of the fiercest women alive, instead of a docile monastery in the north?”

Gaster shrugged, “I actually was _quite_ content with the refugee camp I found myself in several months ago. I was a doctor there, and quite a proficient one in fact. My work there before and during the raid that destroyed it has landed me under the scrutiny of quite a few prying eyes. Some of them a bit less… friendly than others.”

He gave a nervous laugh, motioning his hands in what eventually turned into a worried and helpless shrug, “So now I’m wandering around between camps with Amathea until things settle. If I’m completely honest with you friend, I believe you being thrown with us might have been much less of an act of convenience in escorts and much more in the way of insurance for those on our wide who are betting on our survival. After all, there are several qualified monsters that could have escorted us separately.”

Grillby paused, letting the words sink in.

“What… what happened?”

Gaster let out a loud gasp, making Grillby jump in surprise. The skeleton grinned at him, grasping a hand to his chest dramatically and doing his best to widen his eyes in a feigned look of shock. Grillby sputtered confusedly.

“Grillby! We’ve just barely _met_. Do you _honestly_ expect to know _everything_ about me before nightfall?” He exclaimed, his voice struggling to sound aghast as barely suppressed laughter tugged at his nonexistent throat. Grillby crossed his arms, but found humor in the irony in spite of himself.

“We’re going to be spending a lot of time together you know,” Grillby parroted back to him, pouring every ounce of condescending into his voice that he could manage, “Why play the ‘mysterious stranger’ card this early in the game?

Gaster let out a long laugh, throwing his head back and rocking on his heals. He jabbed a bony finger at Grillby.

“You know what? I _like_ you. Just the perfect blend of uptight and humorous.”

“Uptight?” Grillby struggled to keep his voice sounding amused instead of… well... insulted.

“It’s fantastic,” Gaster chuckled, “Now, my glorious tour guide, would you mind directing us back to where we pitched our tent? The sooner we get you set up, the sooner I get to sleep. Heavens alive all that marching just makes me want to snooze for days.”

Grillby spun on his heel, heading off back the way they’d come. He gave a subtle smirk.

“Huh, so when Amathea said you were napping earlier...”

Gaster gave an indignant huff, “I’ll have you know I was doing something of the _utmost_ importance!”

“Oh really? And what was that, pray tell?”

The skeleton flashed him a wide grin.

“Well I mean… it wasn’t _not_ napping, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cheese this did not want to be written.  
> I'm hoping really hard that everything makes sense and nothing seems too random because gosh darn I'm still trying to figure out how I want to write these guys. Mostly Gaster. I'm really trying to make him seem like if Papyrus and Sans fused he'd have their personality, but right now I think he just comes across as rediculous.
> 
> Hrrrnnnghghfffffpppbbbttt.


	5. Sir could you slow down I can't understand a word you're saying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we figure out that mysterious sign language is literally nonsense.

 

After careful scrutiny of the ground around Amathea’s tent, Grillby finally decided on a place to pitch his own - making sure he was safe from any water that might run down the hills should another heavy rain start like the night before. Which was very well possible, given how threateningly grey the skies had begun to look as the morning progressed. Actually assembling the thing turned out to be relatively simple with Gaster’s help. For as pestering as the skeleton was with his thousands of questions, he was in the end quite an efficient worker. And with the aid of his summoned hands, he had the tent together without Grillby having to help hardly at all. He felt guilty for not helping more - this was his home after all. Gaster didn’t give him a chance to apologize for it though, because as soon as he was finished the skeleton slipped into he and Amathea’s tent, collapsing inside with an over exaggerated sigh. He was asleep in seconds, and Grillby was finally left to his own devices.

“And then there was one,” Grillby hummed to himself, “... now what?”

He supposed he could probably meander his way to the mess tent and see if lunch was an option - cringing internally at the thought of the hoard of monsters probably crowding towards it for a meal after their march that morning. And he wasn’t feeling particularly hungry anyway, just bored. He paced for a few minutes, running through his options. He didn’t have anyone he could write, nothing he’d really like to trade for. When was Gerson’s promotion ceremony again? They tended to be small affairs but… he still wanted to show some support while he still could. And then there was the gathering tonight his old unit wanted to do. That was sure to be interesting. Lonely in the long run perhaps, but Grillby could handle a bit of bittersweet.

Finally Grillby made a decision and with a reassuring breath, plunged himself back into the crowded camp. It was strange walking through without an escort of some sort. He’d made runs around by himself alone before, of course. He wasn’t coddled so much that he was never alone. But on the general whole, Grillby spent most of his time in someone else’s company. Making decisions without someone else’s input was different. It was supposed to be liberating, he knew, but instead he felt nervous. Hyperconscious.

Stepping around other monsters when from being an unconscious action to a laborious chore. With so many new monsters wandering around, it was like trying to dodge raindrops. Huge, meandering raindrops with minds of their own and no care in the world for where they stepped or stopped or stumbled or anything else for that matter. Of course Grillby did stick out a little bit more than the average monster, but everyone today seemed to be completely ignoring his presence in the most disastrous ways possible. Just making his way across camp set every single one of Grillby’s nerves on edge - and the more flustered he got the more heat rolled off him, and the more dangerous he was to the monsters in his immediate vicinity. He didn’t know how many times he’d mumbled apologies to monsters who had stepped just a _little_ too close for comfort.

After what seemed to be half an eternity, Grillby managed to stumble onto the small parade field where the short ceremony was sure to be held. It was normally used for teaching units to march in rank and formation, and tomorrow Grillby was sure that some of the new units would be here walking in circles on command and trying their hardest to stay in step together. Today, however, it was going to be used for something just a little more glorious. There were a few monsters gathered already - they worked on dressing the field in a meager attempt to make the promotion affair seem a bit more dignified. Magic was being used to clear stirred up mud that the rains had caused the night before. A small podium was being assembled - or attempted to be. The monsters who worked on it seemed to be struggling between the heavy weight of the thing and the spongy ground. A few clumps of monsters with nothing better to do crowded around each other, talking pleasantly as they waited for the ceremony to start. From the looks of things, Grillby judged there might be an hour or more to go until things actually kicked off.

The elemental cast his gaze up towards the sky again, his whole body frowning as he watched the last break in the cloud cover disappear behind a veneer of grey. He tossed up a silent prayer to the heavens that the rain would hold off long enough for him to watch the ceremony - and maybe until he made it back to his tent that evening too, if it could be managed. Though from the looks of the sky downwind, he probably shouldn’t be pressing his luck.

For such a beautiful time of year, fall seemed to go out of its way to be inconvenient for him, it seemed.

With nothing better to do, and not all that willing to go walking through another crowd again, Grillby moved towards one of the working monsters and offered his help. He kept his voice low but pleasant, biting back a sigh when the monster he spoke with still managed to look intimidated. They stammered for him to wait a moment and scurried off to a superior, pointing back at Grillby when they were questioned on who was asking for what. The second monster glanced at him, blinking in surprise for a moment before waving him over. Grillby brightened as he approached, trying to look pleasant but realizing belatedly he was probably just making himself look more intimidating.

“You were the monster who asked to help?” The coordinator asked disbelievingly. She was a lythe canine monster, some mix between a dog and something with horns if the small prongs beside her ears were any indication. Grillby nodded.

“Yes, actually. I’m a bit early for the ceremony and figured I could offer some assistance.”

The girl glanced over to where a few of her subordinates were struggling with the podium, and then back to Grillby again, “Well, d’you think you could fix our mud problem?”

Grillby could’ve laughed, “I think I could manage that. Would you have them clear the field?”

She nodded, moving off to bark a few orders to the monsters nearby. They immediately began tearing apart what they’d managed to put together, shuffling away and churning up even more of the muddy earth as they went. The monster Grillby had first spoken with began clearing away the monsters huddled nearby as well, cautioning them away in case something should go amiss. Grillby new it was unnecessary, but he didn’t intervene. He waited patiently, nodding back to the coordinator he’d spoken with when she gave him the all clear.

Grillby sighed in a deep breath, letting his core heat up and expand. He sparked, fire rippling in bright whites and blues. Heat rolled off of him in waves, the ground at his feet misting as the moisture inside it began to evaporate. As he exhaled, a ring of fire bloomed about his ankles and expanded, rippling outwards and rolling just above the bare earth. Immediately the ground began to hiss and fizzle, he could feel the earth beneath his feet become a little more firm as the water was forced out and into the air. And his fire kept blooming outwards, coursing across the field where he knew the crowds would be standing, back to where the podium had begun to be assembled and then forcibly moved. A thin, misty steam rose, swirling about the parade grounds as the fire rippled to its end. It fizzled out abruptly when it reached the edges of the parade square, blinking out inches before anything flamable could so much as brush it. Grillby stomped a foot on the ground experimentally, flickering contentedly when the ground didn’t yield as readily as it had before. He tossed the now startled-looking coordinator a thumbs up.

“Should be good now I think,” he called over to her, unable to bite back his pride at her baffled expression. She paused for a blink before calling her workers to get started again, nodding appreciatively when they began reassembling the podium without the fear of sinking in the mud. A few monsters nearby clapped and gave muted cheers. Grillby gave a bashful flush and bowed to them, earning himself several laughs and a few more claps.

“That was a neat parlor trick!”

Grillby let out a gasp and flinched, hardly stifling a shriek as it bubbled through his throat. When he was sure his core hadn’t managed to implode from the shock, he gave his foot an angry stomp. He spun abruptly on his heel, staring up at what was quickly becoming the most annoying grin Grillby had ever seen.

“Do you know any others like that?” Gaster asked, eyes glittering in that ever present star-like wonder. Grillby crossed his arms, giving in to his urge to tap his foot in nervous tension. Gaster blinked down at him, confused for a moment before realization dawned on him. He chuckled, waving his hands emphatically as he took a wary step back.

“Oh lighten up a little, hothead,” Gaster laughed, though there was an apologetic slowness to his motioning hands that Grillby just barely noticed, “No harm no foul.”

“I swear to heaven above if you do that again…!” The elemental muttered bitterly, but trailed off in a seething growl before he could lay claim to anything truly threatening. No matter how annoying the skeleton got, Grillby doubted he could ever hurt him on purpose. Gaster kept smiling, thought there was a strain in it. He kept motioning his hands in the same expression over and over again. It looked familiar.

“What?” Grillby sighed defeatedly.

“Sorry,” Gaster said, jerking his hands decisively.

The elemental shook his head, “Yeah whatever. Aren’t you supposed to be napping or something?”

Gaster shrugged, “I don’t sleep long.”

“How did you even _find_ me?”

If it were possible, Gaster’s grin got even wider. He tried and failed to widen his eyes - the broken one twitching but remaining stubbornly in place. He leaned forward, giving his hands a wild flare.

“Magic!”

“More like stalking,” Grillby muttered, eliciting a nervous laugh from Gaster.

“Oh don’t be cruel,” Gaster said, his smile waning just a bit, “I figured you’d have noticed by now, friend. I’m not exactly the type for subtle tedium.”

Grillby had to admit begrudgingly that Gaster was probably right about that.

“Anyway, that _wasn’t_ a parlor trick,” he said bitterly, “I don’t use magic stupidly. They wanted my help.”

“Huh,” Gaster looked genuinely impressed, for what it was worth, “Well whatever it was, it was quite fascinating. That kind of magic just comes naturally to you?”

“It was a fire burst,” Grillby murmured defensively, “A lot of monsters who work with fire magic can do those.”

“Really? I’ve never seen it before,” Gaster mused out loud, more to himself than Grillby, “Ah well. It was impressive nonetheless.”

He paused, considering something before signing with a bit more gravity, “I’m constrained to bone attacks myself, along with a small handful of things I’ve picked up recently from the camps I’ve been in. Watching other monsters work their magic always fascinates me. It’s always interesting to see someone do something you’re incapable of.”

Grillby shifted on his feet a bit uncomfortably, sighing as his agitation began to abate. It was hard to be bitter with the monster when he seemed to constantly exude some overbearing, child-like wonder.

“That’s an interesting way of looking at it,” he admitted finally, “So how about you? Any… what was that again…?”

He raised his fingers in condescending air quotes, “ _Parlor tricks_?”

Gaster laughed, moving his hands in rapid excitement, “What, are you kidding? Of course I do! Heh, most of them are more for survival though.”

He suddenly gasped, his mouth splitting into a wide grin, “Hey I know! Why don’t we spar?”

“What?!”

Grillby felt like he’d been punched in the gut. His very core gave a jolt of surprise, his flame swarming through trepid, washed out hues of white and blue.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun! And probably kill a good bit of time too,” Gaster continued with fearless abandon, “I mean, you’re waiting on your friend’s ceremony right? It’ll keep us entertained for a bit.”

He chuckled, “Might entertain everyone else as well.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Grillby managed to squeak out past the building, queasy feeling in his gut, “That is _definitely not_ a good idea.”

“Oh come _on_ live a little, firefly,” Gaster laughed, “A friendly spar never dusted anyone.”

“No, no no no, infinity plus one, no,” Grillby said quickly, finally able to get a bit of firmness back into his voice, “You’re a skeleton.”

“And you’re an elemental,” the friendliness in Gaster’s tone dissipated, turning into something a bit more serious and - if it were possible - confused, “I’m made of bone, no stained glass. I mean, I know we tend to be fragile but I’ve lived this long for a reason you know. Come on. Trust me on this one. It’ll be great.”

“No.”

Gaster paused, obviously trying to figure out something convincing to say. His hands signed out a few of his thoughts for him before he finally managed to pick something, “Weren’t you curious about my magic just a handful of seconds ago?”

“Not _that_ curious,” Grillby said decisively, crossing his arms and hoping to cut off any further argument, “I don’t spar. Not for fun anyway.”

Gaster frowned, caught somewhere between disappointment and genuine confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, hands stuttering for a second as he started and stopped one or two motions. With a sigh he waved one of them, as if dismissing something. His smile worked it’s way back onto his face, smaller than before but not unkind.

“Alright, whatever you say I guess,” he said, his voice pitching back into a shadow of it’s earlier enthusiasm, “Though I will warn you, Amathea’s the kind of escort who thinks sparring is the _only_ way to train. Might want to mentally prepare yourself for that when it happens.”

“I’ll cross that road when I get to it,” came Grillby’s curt reply.

Silence passed between them, the two monsters shifting awkwardly for a moment, at a lost for what to do or say. Grillby cast a wary glance up at the sky again, his flame fluttering in a scowl when he saw it had gotten darker. Gaster glanced up as well, a puzzling frown on his face. He signed something, Grillby just barely catching it out of his peripheral. Curiosity got the better of him.

“What was that?”

He signed it again, frowning a little deeper, “Erm… worried about the rain? Basically. Some things don’t translate well.”

“Where you come from, does everyone sign like that?”

“Well, no,” Gaster said with a shrug, “My brother lost his bottom jaw when he fell out of a tree when we were little. We found a way of talking in spite of it.”

He grinned, “We grew up pretty isolated, so there wasn’t really anyone there to tell me it was weird… or stop the habit. And now that he’s no longer here I have no will in me to stop.”

Grillby felt himself dim, “Oh… I’m sorry.”

Gaster made a dismissive gesture with his hand, his smile becoming wistful, “It’s how life goes sometimes. Heh, I have to admit, I do quite enjoy how baffled some monsters look when they watch me talk. They get so lost watching my hands they stop hearing me speak. It’s… interesting.”

Grillby watched the complex motions of Gaster’s hands as we spoke, soaking in each movement. It was hard to tell what any of them meant. Grillby could hardly tell where one motion stopped and the other one started.

“Over time Amathea picked up a few of them,” Gaster continued, rambling a bit, enjoying the quizzical way Grillby tilted his head as he tried to decipher the movements he made, “We use them sometimes when we need to be quiet while out on the field. Taught a few of them to some of the units we joined.”

Grillby paused, thinking. He raised his hands hesitantly and, after a pause, waved them in a circle around each other once. After the motion was finished, he pulled his right hand forward, palm out towards Gaster’s chest. The skeleton blinked down at him, surprise lighting up his glittering eyes.

“You said that was ‘sorry’ earlier, right?” Grillby asked, peering up at Gaster, flickering apprehensively, “Or did I just say a bunch of nonsense?”

Gaster’s face slowly brightened, his lackadaisical grin baring his teeth and his eyes lighting up with excitement, “No no! That was good! You caught that quick.”

Grillby felt himself lighten a little, sighing a bit with relief. Finally, something safe to talk about.

“Would you show me more?” He asked with a contented flicker, “Since we have a wait.”

For someone who couldn’t properly grin, or widen his eyes or other such emotional cues, he sure managed to light up at the prospect of teaching someone his language. He quickly motioned for Grillby to sit beside him on the ground, and the elemental followed suit.

“What do you want to know first?” He asked happily.

Grillby thought a moment, finally giving a shrug, “I don’t know, really. Names?”

Gaster nodded, frowning slightly, “Huh… alright well…”

He went through a long, slow motion, holding his left hand stationary as he waved his right hand over it twice with a quick flick of his wrist. Then he jerked his right hand upward to carve an ‘x’ by his right shoulder.

“That’s how my brother referred to me,” Gaster said with a grin. He took Grillby back through the motion several times, correcting subtle differences in the way the elemental moved his hands.

“So did you two just… make this up?”

“Yeah, mostly,” Gaster chuckled, “Most of it probably won’t make sense. Some of the motions are nonsense things. Things we thought looked interesting or complicated. Some of the motions repeat for related things.”

He paused, “Hmm… so how about you then? How do you want to be called?”

Grillby shrugged, at a loss, “No idea.”

Gaster chuckled, making a sweeping gesture, “Well this is fire. This one is smoke. Uhm… man. Warmth.”

Gaster flashed a mischievous grin, “Uptight.”

Grillby rolled his eyes and let out a groan, earning himself a rattling laugh from Gaster.

“Give me some words. We’ll make you something,” Gaster offered, smiling good-naturedly. Grillby paused, thinking. He started listing off words. Stars, rain, light, peace. Dark. Ancient. Strong. Cautious. Upon his asking, Gaster would fuse some of them together, add flares to the motions or simplify them. Grillby would copy some, ignore others. As they worked, monsters gathered. Some watched the two, blinking curiously at their strange conversation and wondering what in the world they were up to. A few small children pointed at the funny fire man and the skeleton who were talking with their hands. Others were grabbing spots to stand for the ceremony, casting expectant looks up at the podium and the tents nearby as some of the monsters to receive the promotions began to gather. They settled on a motion shortly before the ceremony began, Gaster motioning through a calm set of flourishes - a simplified amalgamation of stars, sky, and fire. The skeleton grinned, signing the motion over and over and committing it to memory. Grillby echoed him, feeling surprisingly happy.

“There! Grillby,” Gaster said matter-of-factly, as if the word had existed all along, “I like it.”

He signed the motion again, more to himself than anyone else, “Yeah, that’s a good one.”

Grillby chuckled, slowly pulling himself to his feet. The monsters nearest to him shuffled a few antsy steps away from him, cautioning themselves away. Grillby ignored it, focusing instead on Gaster as the skeleton hopped smoothly up. He dusted off his long black tunic, laughing as he went.

“Wanna see what I call Ammy?” He asked, barring his teeth in a mischievous grin. Grillby nodded cautiously. Gaster took him through a jerking motion - something short and fast and brash. Grillby tilted his head up at the skeleton.

“What was that?”

Gaster grinned, “Promise you won’t tell?”

“What are we, five?” Grillby laughed.

“Gotta promise,” Gaster chimed, grinning all the while.

“Fine fine,” Grillby sighed happily, “I promise. What’s it say?”

Gaster snickered, hardly able to contain himself as he signed it again.

“Angry fish mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case any of you know actual ASL (or any other sign language) please know that this isn't based on any real sign language ever. At all. And I mean absolutely no offence to people who speak it.


	6. PERSONAL SPACE. I NEED IT.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author tries to do character development kind of a little bit maybe who knows.

Movement at the front of the field drew the two monsters’ attention, and Grillby brightened when he saw Gerson emerge from the line of tents to join a few other gathered monsters who were eagerly awaiting the promotions they were to receive. He stifled the reflex to wave childishly to him from where he stood. Grillby stuck out like a sore thumb. If Gerson hadn’t noticed him by now, he was going blind. Gaster shifted on his feet beside the elemental, fidgeting impatiently as he waited for the ceremony to start. He had just enough time to open his mouth to say something to Grillby when a short trumpet blast shot through the air around them. A few monsters jumped, not expecting the sound. The general clamor of the crowd died down.

“Oooo, it’s starting,” Gaster hummed, and Grillby shushed him. He cast one last wary look up at they greying sky before focusing his attention on the monster stepping up to the podium. He was a large goat monster, some relative to the king. The current head of the camp, Commander Dreemurr. Grillby hadn’t met the monster personally, but he’d seen his comings and goings on occasion. He had a friendly voice and a kind smile, Grillby remembered.

“Good morning my fellow monsters,” the commander said, his voice carrying over the slowly silencing crowd, “We are gathered here on this fine morning to honor and celebrate the great acts of bravery and discipline that has set a number of our own apart from the rest. These monsters gathered with me today are to be honored by becoming a part of the commanding staff, to help lead and aid in the protection of our great people…”

And so it went. Dreemurr, Grillby had realized during several other of these affairs that he had seen, had a strong way with words. His speeches were inspiring, even though his voice remained calm and his demeanor poised. This speech held a particular pride for Grillby though, knowing his mentor and friend was the one receiving the praise and honor. The fire monster felt like his soul might burst for his friend, and he beamed happily from where he stood. Gaster, for what it was worth, managed to remain quiet and mostly still as the event progressed. He fidgeted a bit, occasionally shifting his weight from foot to foot and making silent motions with his hands.

“... and now without further adieu,” Dreemurr said with a regal bow of his head, “I will bestow upon these fine monsters the honors and titles they have earned through their hard work and dedication. Step forward Javen.”

One of the monsters who had been lined up patiently by the podium stepped forward and bowed. Dreemurr stepped forward to meet her, waving a hand over her head and shoulders and crowning her in a soft burst of fire magic.

“Rise, Javen, the Sword of Truth.”

There was applause as Javen rose. The monster bowed to the onlooking crowd before stepping to the side.

“Step forward, Raphael.”

The next monster in line stepped forward and bowed. The Commander crowned him in magic, naming him Raphael the Warbreaker. Then came Elwin the Valiant. Charon the Unyielding Shield. Saren the Rising Storm.

“Step forward, Gerson.”

Grillby wished he had a proper mouth to grin with. He settled instead on brightening as much as he could, flaring to life brightly. He tried to ignore the handful of monsters that shuffled a step or two away from him when the air around him got hotter. He was a bit surprised when Gaster stayed in place - though he supposed if anyone would, it would be him.

“Rise Gerson, The Hammer of Justice.”

There were a few whoops and cheers from the audience - some of the more rowdy of Gerson’s old unit making a fuss from where they stood amalgamated with the rest of the crowd. Grillby didn’t cheer, he was a bit too timid for that. But he clapped as enthusiastically as he could, sparking and crackling all the while. Gerson bowed politely to the crowd, and by the time he’d stepped aside he was grinning like a child. The crowd calmed down enough for Dreemurr to move on to the remaining monsters in the line, each new name being met with cheers and praise.

The Commander was on the second to last one when Grillby felt a prickle against his core. He flinched, shuddering off the feeling only for it to hit a second time. It stung slightly, like someone had poked him with a needle. Movement caught the corner of his eye and he glanced over at Gaster, who was holding a hand out experimentally - catching a raindrop on his finger bones. The skeleton frowned over at Grillby.

“Is rain a thing you can do?”

Grillby shook his head, flinching as another heavy drop landed on him.

“Should you leave?”

“I’ll be fine,” Grillby murmured, stoking himself a little hotter in the hopes of warding off some of the threatening drops, “It’s just sprinkling. Just as long as this gets done with before a downpour starts-”

“Don’t mean to put a damper on that,” Gaster cut him off abruptly, “But if you have to fight through a crowd while it starts raining harder, that’ll put you in a pretty sorry state.”

Grillby gave a nervous flicker, his core churning around in his chest apprehensively. He glanced around at the crowd, and then forward at podium where the commander had finished with the naming as was going into a final speech about bravery in the face of adversity and some other such inspirational nonsense. It was starting to rain a little harder, a few monsters on the fringes of the parade grounds already ambling towards tents and shelters. Grillby shivered, a feeling of pins and needles jabbing at his head, neck and shoulders as more rain fell.

“If we leave now we might be able to get you back to your tent,” Gaster offered, “It’ll be a bit nicer than crashing in one of the traders’ tents, or the mess hall. Or outside.”

Grillby shifted on his feet uncomfortably. He wanted to stay and support Gerson. Though, he supposed he’d at least gotten to see the monster named and most of the ceremony take place. The rest now was just formality. And Gerson would never ask him to stay when his life could be in danger. He was probably wondering why Grillby was still there at all. The elemental huffed out a defeated sigh.

He still felt guilty though.

“I should leave,” he finally conceded, his sentence ending in a fretful hiss when a drop of water landed just above his eye. He turned to make his way through the crowd, monsters attempting to part for him but inevitably running into too many people standing beside them to move far enough for Grillby to make his way comfortably. It was a strain trying to go through without touching anyone, and he earned himself a handful of nasty or shocked looks when he managed to brush into someone. Gaster followed like a shadow, watching Grillby move with a mix of mild concern and curiosity, absolutely rookish in how he towered over the elemental as he walked.

By the time they’d wormed their way back into open space again, the rain had started to pick up even more. Grillby dashed off as soon as he had the room to, hissing and wincing every other breath. The rain stung, prickling against his flame and making his core shudder. It helped that it wasn’t raining quite hard enough to soak through his clothes, he had some small protection at least. But the parts of him that were exposed were beginning to ache from the stings, his fire starting to cool despite his attempts to stir it warmer. A tense whine shuddered it’s way through his chest. This was absolutely _miserable_.

It was starting to rain harder.

For a few soul-splitting seconds, Grillby wondered if he would make it back to his tent before the skies let loose and a real downpour started. What an inglorious way to leave this world - snuffed out because of his own stupidity and stubbornness. He should’ve retreated inside as soon as the sky had clouded over. Grillby skid to a tremulous halt, looking around wildly for someplace to escape the weather. After a pause he realized he was missing someone. Grillby spun around in a circle, eyes flicking to and fro around the path he’d run down.

Gaster was nowhere to be seen.

_Brilliant._

Grillby sighed bitterly to himself, turned and resumed his dash back towards his tent. The skeleton could find his own way back. It wasn’t like Grillby could stick around to wait for him anyway. And for someone so clueless, Gaster sure had a way of popping up where you least expected him to be. If the skeleton could figure out where Grillby was, he could figure out where his own tent was.

Grillby was halfway across the camp when the downpour he’d been dreading finally decided to rear it’s ugly head. The elemental watched it come, first as a grey haze that seemed to engulf the world in front of him. Then as a gust of wind that propelled some of the first droplets towards him. He wasn’t even given a chance to react. There was a ping on his soul, and for a split second every part of his flame and his soul shone blue. Whatever magic that had clenched itself around him weighted him down for a moment before suddenly whisking him off of his feet. He hit the ground in a bitter skid, slipping into a nearby tent just before the downpour slammed into his new shelter.

Grillby lay there on his back, stunned, watching as the top of the tent shook as the rain hounded into it. What in the _world_.

Movement caught the elemental’s peripheral, and he glanced over to see Gaster standing beside him. A grin split his face and he gave a quiet wave. Grillby sat up slowly, blinking up at Gaster.

“Was that _you_?” He asked incredulously.

The skeleton shrugged, “I mean, it wasn’t _not_ me if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Grillby looked outside at the rain, gaze resting pointedly at where the line of water ended just before his feet, then back up at Gaster Back outside again. Back to Gaster.

“ _How?_ ”

Gaster chuckled, “What do you mean, how?”

“You were _gone_!” Grillby exclaimed, finally pulling himself to his feet, “I checked, you’d disappeared! I’d lost you in the crowd back there! And now you’re _here_. Before _I_ got here.”

Gaster didn’t say anything. He just grinned mischievously, arms crossed over his chest in some mix of proud and smug.

“And then there was the…? Was that _blue_ magic?” Grillby sputtered, “You said you only knew bone attacks.”

“I also said I picked up a few things,” Gaster pointed out, his voice content and the motions of his hands confident, “Parlor tricks. Remember?”

Grillby would have been gaping if he had a proper mouth to do it with. In place of that, his fire doused itself into pale whites and blues, sparks occasionally fizzling to life around him. He watched the skeleton for several long seconds.

“Monsters don’t just… _pick up_ blue attacks,” Grillby paused a moment, and then added, “Or _any_ strong attacks like that. That’s boss monster material.”

Gaster gave a helpless shrug, “I mean, all I did was pull your soul over here. It’s not really _that_ big of a deal.”

“What other ‘parlor tricks’ do you know?”

Gaster laughed, “Oh come on Grillby. Don’t ruin the surprise. Life get’s boring that way.”

He shifted on his feet uncomfortably for a second before saying, “Besides, it’s… really not that big of a deal. Magic just comes easier to some of us.”

Grillby looked unconvinced. He _felt_ unconvinced.

“Anyway,” Gaster smiled nervously down at Grillby, “I’m glad I found you quick enough. That could’ve gotten nasty huh? With the rain? I’m curious though. Why don’t you wear something a little more… protective?”

Grillby tilted his head to the side questioningly.

“You know, a cloak, something with a hood. Something that’s been water proofed maybe?”

Now it was Grillby’s turn to shrug. He held his hands out helplessly.

“I guess… monsters are just worried I’ll catch it on fire,” Grillby mused, “I mean, waterproofing is done with oil or grease, which catches fire pretty easily. And water proofing magic wears off within a few uses. Not to mention the craftsmen who weave it aren’t exactly cheap.”

“Well a hood surely wouldn’t do any harm,” Gaster’s voice pitched a little in worry, “Unless you’re like a candle and you’ll just snuff yourself out if we put a cap on your head.”

Grillby shrugged, “Monsters just get scared. It’s irrational, but fire scares people. It’s not that big of a deal. I mean it only really rains like this in the autumn anyway. I don’t -”

Gaster suddenly whisked forward, clapping a hand on either side of Grillby’s fiery face. The elemental stiffened in an instant, biting off the end of his sentence with a terrified shriek. The skeleton peered down at him with fervently searching eyes, his teeth clenched in a questioning frown and the bony ridge above his unbroken eye lowered.

“... What. Are. You. Doing,” Grillby demanded in a tense whisper, almost too afraid to breathe. With every fervent flutter of his core he begged his fire to cool as much as possible, his whole body pitching into molten, rapidly dimming and horror-stricken reds. Gaster ignored him, one hand resting on the side of the terrified elemental’s face while his other slipped up to wave through the free-flowing flame that wisped from the top of his head.

“Huh,” the skeleton finally tutted, stepping back after the longest and most intense seconds of Grillby’s life. As soon as he did the elemental let out the pent up breath he’d been holding, his fire blooming back to a flustered strength and ferocious heat in seconds. For a few core-splitting moments Grillby thought he might pass out from relief.

“I don’t get it,” Gaster said with a confused frown, “You’re not even hot. And I don’t have a single hit point out of place.”

“Are you _insane_?!” Grillby shouted, and Gaster jumped in surprise, flinching back a step.

“You don’t _do_ that,” the elemental continued, his voice coming out much more ragged and emotional than he was expecting, but unable to help it, “Especially to _me_. You don’t do that to me! It is hard enough making sure I don’t accidentally burn things just by existing close enough to them, without monsters like _you!_ ”

Grillby jabbed a harsh finger at Gaster’s chest, eliciting another start from the shocked skeleton, “Going out of their way to… to scare me at every turn, intrude on my personal space, prying at me like I’m… like…”

He let out a bitter growl, too angry to even explain himself.

“Especially _you_. Especially a monster like _you_ who has the natural stats of a magpie! You’ve got what, _two hp?!_ ”

Gaster blinked at him, a nervous grin slowly meandering across his face.

“That’s an exaggeration. I have at _least_ seven.”

Grillby let out an exasperated shout that tapered itself into a groan as he collapsed backwards, sitting on the ground with a terse sigh. He massaged where his temples would be with nervous hands, flickering violently. He heard more than saw Gaster shuffling awkwardly, trying to think of some way to amend the situation. The skeleton finally sank to the ground as well, for once making sure he was a comfortable distance away from the flustered elemental. He sat quietly for a bit, waiting for the feverish flickering from Grillby’s flame to calm to something much closer to it’s normal, smooth orange burn. For a short while at least, the only sound that kept Grillby company was the rain. He could almost pretend like Gaster wasn’t even there.

“The ‘7 hp’ thing was a joke.”

Grillby looked up slowly, scowling at the nervous smile on the skeleton’s face.

“I actually have _much_ more than that. Skeletons just get the ‘fragile’ rep because our attack and defense doesn’t tend to get very high. It’s stupid to me how monsters tend to overreact about that.”

Grillby didn’t respond. He just continued to lock Gaster in a seething glare. Gaster sighed, dropping what was left of his smile to frown thoughtfully forward.

“Grillby, I’ve got a question for you.”

“Oh _joy_.”

Gaster’s frown tugged a little lower. He paused for a second, his hands stalling as he considered whether he still wanted to ask. With a shrug, he continued anyway.

“When was the last time you burned someone?”

Grillby’s flame gave an uncomfortable flicker.

“Recently.”

Gaster paused reassessing the question in his head. He waved a hand, dismissing the answer as if it didn’t matter.

He asked again, “When’s the last time you burned someone _accidentally_?”

Grillby considered the skeleton for a moment, his glare softening a bit.

“Never, that I recall.”

“Okay,” Gaster continued, “When’s the last time you burned _something_ by accident.”

Grillby’s fire burned hot in a scowl, “What’s it matter?”

“It _matters_ ,” Gaster sighed, standing up, “You’re scared of your own skin. Fire. Body. Being. Whatever you call it.”

The elemental said nothing, choosing instead to look down at his feet as if they were the most interesting things in the world. Gaster waited, expecting some kind of response and getting nothing. They shared the same space in awkward silence, once again letting the rain speak through the silence for them. Grillby could feel the skeleton’s eyes on him the entire time, soaking him in as if they were a spunge. Whether he was analyzing him for an answer or just staring to purposefully make Grillby uncomfortable, the elemental didn’t know.

“What are you thinking?” Gaster asked.

Grillby glared up at him, scowling.

“Right now.”

“I think you should leave me be,” Grillby said finally, unable to contain the bitterness in his voice, “I’m exhausted and I’m not up to dealing with… _whatever_ it is you intend to do next.”

To his mild surprise, Gaster didn’t respond. He just regarded the elemental coldly for a moment. Then without any further argument, he walked outside. Into the rain. That was still pouring in sheets. Grillby watched the doorway, waiting for some sign that the skeleton was going to come back and bug him again. His bitterness quickly congealing into something much more along the lines of worry when he didn’t return. It was ferocious weather, even for a monster that wasn’t an elemental. The kind that soaked you to the bone and made your soul sick.

With nothing better to do, Grillby got to his feet and paced, examining the strange tent he’d found himself in as he did so. It doubtlessly belonged to someone. There were belongings stacked cautiously on the ground, away from the edge of the tent so the rain couldn’t soak them. Whoever it belonged to must have gotten caught out somewhere and had run for the nearest shelter they could find instead of backtracking all the way back here. Grillby felt strange and foreign, careful not to disturb anything as he paced. What a mess he’d gotten himself into.

He hoped the rain stopped soon.

Begrudgingly, he admitted to himself that _maybe_ he shouldn’t have snapped so harshly at Gaster. He _definitely_ deserved to be yelled at for invading his personal space like that. And he desperately hoped the skeleton _never did it again_. But… Gaster had probably just saved his life. Or at least saved him a lot of pain. Even if he was trapped in some stranger’s tent, stranded in the middle of a downpour. And maybe he’d been a little high strung about the close call, and got a little too angry when his comfort zone was ripped away.

Maybe Gaster was right and Grillby was worrying too much.

Grillby paused in his pacing. A sound struck up outside of the tent, quite obviously the sound of someone splashing through the torrential rain as it fell in buckets from the sky. Grillby frowned nervously, a thousand excuses coming to mind for whoever the owner was he’d have to apologize to. He relaxed, however, when it was actually Gaster. The skeleton slid inside, every inch of him soaked and dripping, forming a nice puddle around his feet in seconds. He scowled down at himself, his teeth clenching in a disgusted expression.

“Ah man,” he groaned, “This isn’t going to dry anytime soon.”

“Why are you back here?” Grillby asked a little bit harsher than he intended to. Gaster frowned at him, making a show of rolling his eyes - as hard to catch of a gesture as it was, given his broken eye and lack of eyebrows.

“Because I’m considerate,” came the curt reply as Gaster reached into his inventory. He produced a sheet of canvas that looked similar to what the tents were made of. It could have been torn right from one, in fact. He unfolded it carefully; making sure the water-proofed outside was where it was supposed to be. He abruptly threw it over Grillby like a blanket, earning a startled ‘ _oof!_ ’ from the surprised elemental. Grillby pulled it off of his head, staring down at it confusedly. He ran his fingers gently across the fabric.

“What is this for?” He asked, blinking up at Gaster.

“You have somewhere to be this evening right?” Gaster asked, raising the bony ridge of his unbroken eye, “Your friend mentioned something when he dropped you off.”

“Oh… well… yes,” Grillby murmured more to himself than Gaster, “But…”

“You afraid you’ll burn it?”

“Well… no,” Grillby sighed.

“Would you rather go back to your tent…?”

“... no,” Grillby said slowly, “It’s just… it’s raining a lot.”

Gaster flashed Grillby a humorless smile. He grabbed the canvas off of Grillby, using his summoned hands instead of his own, firmly remaining several steps back away from the elemental. The hands pulled it taught and followed him as he stepped outside again. Grillby watched him go, confusion rippling his core. There was a ruffling from outside as he did something with his magic, followed by an expectant pause. Gaster peeked his head back in the tent again.

“Well are you coming?” He asked, a smirk jerking at the corners of his teeth. He disappeared outside again. Grillby stepped cautiously after him, hesitating just inside the opening of the tent. Gaster was standing in the rain, water rolling off of him in droves, though he really didn’t seem to mind it. Instead he just smiled, pointing at a spot just above Grillby’s head. Grillby leaned out of the tent and looked, surprised to find the canvas still being held by those ghostly summoned hands. He’d stretched it tight above the elemental, shielding him from the rain. Grillby cautiously stepped underneath it, watching in pensive wonder as it followed him, floating just a few inches above his head.

“Now,” Gaster cleared his throat, “Where are we going exactly?”

Grillby blinked at him.

“Preferably before I drown.”

“Uhm…” Grillby looked around and finally picked a direction. He muttered a timid, “This way,” to Gaster and walked. They went slowly, Gaster directing the floating hands and canvas with enough precision that barely a handful of drops managed to hit Grillby as they walked. And Grillby, trying to be at least a little helpful, threw his fire into a white-hot glare, trying to keep the skeleton at least a little warm. If it helped at all, Gaster didn’t mention anything.

Grillby sighed and waved his hands at the skeleton. Gaster blinked at him, barely able to hold back a grin as Grillby signed to him.

“You moved your right hand wrong,” Gaster remarked dryly, “Apology wasn’t necessary anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asldkfa;skd these two are so weird to write.  
> like they're fun but i constantly feel like i'm doing it wrong  
> and probably will until about halfway through the story oh dear whoops.
> 
> Anywho if anything sounds or feels weird/out of character, don't hesitate to tell me guys!
> 
> Also, I'm having so much fun researching things for the upcoming chapters you have no idea.  
> Like medieval medicine, astronamy, philosophy. Like holy cheese I have never been so eager to learn things in my life.


	7. Well that was beautiful! And scary. But mostly beautiful.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we hear some singing and the writer did way too much research for this. Too. Much.

It was the first time Grillby had walked in the rain before - for obvious reasons. And… it was surprisingly peaceful. It was like he had a small island of protection in the midst of this imposing sea around him. It was different. Comforting. After all, even in spite of how threatening it could be, Grillby had always loved the rain. It was a force of nature he would never get tired of seeing, hearing, smelling. This was the first time he’d ever properly enjoyed it, submerged himself in it as far as he was capable. If he had the chance, Grillby might walk like this forever.

From the looks of it, though, Gaster was enjoying the whole ordeal _much_ less than the wistful elemental, which Grillby really couldn’t find it in his core to blame him for. Gaster’s shoes and the hem of his pants and long tunic were caked in mud, kicked up from walking halfway to hell and back just to give Grillby a makeshift umbrella. He was completely soaked, wasting his magic away slowly just to keep the umbrella afloat, and he waved his hands spastically in a quiet rant that Grillby didn’t know enough of his strange language to understand. All of the motions seemed unfamiliar and frenetic, and while he wasn’t particularly scowling, he had a pitiful, exhausted expression on his face that made Grillby want to wince. At least seeing the unfamiliar motions that meant Gaster probably wasn’t ranting about him specifically. Maybe.

That was good, right?

“If you start getting tired we can take a rest somewhere,” Grillby offered lamely after several minutes of their slow, silent meandering. They’d been keeping their pace deliberate and reluctant, neither one of them wanting to risk accidentally dousing Grillby because either of them misstepped. It was probably a miserable, tedious walk for Gaster. One hinged on meticulous control of his magic and special care for his every movement.  

Gaster made a dismissive gesture with his hand, though Grillby noticed it was sluggishly done, “If I couldn’t handle petty magic like this I’d be dust by now.”

The elemental shrugged in reply. The mess tent loomed in the distance, grey and foreboding in the haze that the rain created. Grillby could already hear the bawdy, laughing voices of the monsters inside. It was going to be crowded and uncomfortable, but it would also likely be warm and dry. Two things Gaster would be wanting fairly soon.

“Are you going to be okay?”

For the first time in what was probably too long, considering Gaster’s personality, the skeleton barked a laugh, “Yes I’m going to be fine. It’s just water.”

He frowned at this and then signed apologetically, “I mean… for _me_ it’s just water. And having no humor means I’m always in good humor so I can’t get sick.”

The skeleton grimaced at Grillby’s blank expression, “I don’t suppose you’ve studied any modern medicine?”

Grillby shook his head, “I’ve been summoned for a purpose that doesn’t involve many scholarly ventures.”

Gaster shrugged, cracking a genuine smile, “I could talk for hours on it so don’t get me started.”

Grillby beamed a little brighter, glad Gaster had returned to some semblance of his natural spirits. He moved to ask for an explanation, something to get him talking more, when a loud shout cut him off. Both he and Gaster jumped in surprise.

“ALRIGHT YOU RAGGABRASH YOU’VE GOT YOURSELF A BET THEN! OR ARE YOU SUCH A LOITER-SACK OF A GREEN COMMANDER YOU’LL LET A ONE-ARMED LASS SHOW YOU UP?!”

Gaster sputtered a laugh, walking a little faster towards the glowing light of the mess tent. Grillby stepped after him.

“Oh heavens above Ammy,” the skeleton muttered under his breath with a grin, “What are you doing now?”

“Never known such a brash klazomaniac to call herself a lass! As you wish my lady, I’ll make your match!”

Grillby and Gaster stormed into the tent then, Grillby flickering with laughter at the sight before him. There was a circle of cheering, laughing monsters around one of the tables in the hall. Bets were obviously being placed, eager eyes directed towards the two monsters at the table in the center of their circle. There was Amathea, leaning confidently over the table. Her face, normally stoic, was split in a fierce and exhilarated grin that flashed amber with her sharpened teeth. Her fist was clenched tight around Gerson’s, who glared back at her with determined grit and a sparkle humor in his eye. A third monster standing off to the side of both of them held a hand on their clenched fists. With a countdown he let go, and Amathea and Gerson were immediately pitched into the most fearsome of arm wrestling matches that Grillby had ever seen, arms shaking with effort and faces scrunched up in expressions of strain. Around them the other monsters cheered, whooping and yelling for whoever they were betting on to win.

“Ammy’s gonna break his arm,” Gaster said with a shake of his head. He didn’t step towards the ruckus though, choosing instead to start wringing out his clothes. He already had a substantial puddle around his feet just from standing. Grillby looked between him and the arm wrestling match for a moment before grabbing the skeleton’s attention.

“Heat doesn’t bother you, right?” he asked, pausing the skeleton in the middle of his meager attempts at drying off. Gaster nodded slowly.

“Hold still.”

With a flick of his wrist, Grillby caged the skeleton in a tunnel of fire, precision keeping the flame just inches away from him the entire time the magic coursed about him. He held it there for a slow count to twenty before dropping it, watching as steam wisped away from the skeleton’s clothes as he did. Gaster looked down at himself, stunned for a moment, and then back up at Grilly.

“That… should be a little dryer,” the elemental mumbled, self conscious under Gaster’s scrutinizing stare, “I didn’t burn you right?”

“No no, I’m fine,” Gaster split into a grin, leaning towards Grillby excitedly, “That was _amazing_! How in the world did you-”

The harsh slam on the table jerked both of their attentions back to the arm wrestling match. Much to Grillby’s surprise - and to many of the other monsters’ surprise as well, from the mixed cheers and groans everyone was making - Amathea’s arm was pinned, Gerson having wrestled her into submission. The fish monster laughed, shaking off the sting in her arm when she was released. Gerson was grinning, flushed from the strain and triumphant. He rubbed his sore wrist with his free hand, laughing at his friends as they passed around winning bets and congratulations.

“Alright, lass, fair is fair,” Gerson chuckled after the ruckus had died down enough for him to talk over, “You going to show us that siren voice of yours?”

“Oh alright,” Amathea said with an overdramatic sigh, “Don’t let it ever be said Amathea the Brave was a liar. But we’re doing this a certain way.”

Amathea stood from her seat, turning to her audience, “All you fustilarian raggerbrash that want to waste your time listening to this angry voice, get a chair and get in a circle!”

With a shuffle of movement monsters went to work, shoving aside empty tables and clattering about mixed-matched stools and chairs. Amathea herself sat herself on the table that had served as her arm wrestling arena, lording over the rest of the monsters as they moved with that vicious grin of hers. Grillby tilted his head to the side questioningly.

“What is she doing?”

“She’s about to sing,” Gaster answered simply, “Or… well… she’s gonna play at it anyway.”

He grinned, “She’ll kick you out if you don’t join in.”

Grillby sputtered a spark-covered sigh, “Oh but of _course_.”

Gaster laughed good-naturedly, scooping a nearby stool off the ground and moving towards the circle, “Live a little, firefly.”

Grillby shook his head, huffing out another sigh. With a resigned shrug he moved to join the others. Gaster parked his stool beside Amathea’s table, beaming up at his escort with a conniving anticipation. He knew what was coming next, even if the rest of the monsters didn't. Grillby somehow managed to find a seat near Gerson, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him. The turtle monster flashed a grin in his direction before turning his attention back to Amathea as the last straggling monsters moved into place. There had to be twenty of them struggling for space in the circle.

“Alright lads,” Amathea began, yanking something from her inventory. She sat it on the table between her knees, showing off a large, ornately decorated ivory flask. She worked at uncorking it as she spoke.

“Any of you know what this here outstanding spirit is?”

There were several shaking heads, a few grumbles and awkward shuffles. Grillby noticed Gaster stayed wisely silent, watching Amathea’s routine as if he’d seen it a thousand times. The fish monster leaned towards her audience, grin slipping into a mysterious shadow of what it had been previously. Her voice lowered, rolling through her throat enticingly as she raised one of her eyebrows in a smirk. And as she spoke she spun the little jug in a hypnotizing circle, just slow enough to draw the attention of the eye and fast enough to make the head subtly spin.

“This here aqua vitae, my friends, is the brightest and best thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Seasoned with the broken spirits of mermaid prey, brewed with phoenix tears and the spit of the dead gods of the southern isles. The nectar of kings to rival the water of the fountain of youth. Sweet enough to soften your soul with a final bite to break it. One sip has sent the faint of heart and stomach to a wine-sick sleep. This, my friends, will make all other liquors before it taste seem like horse piss and all after like that muck you bury in the latrine.”

She abruptly stopped spinning the jug, deftly lifting it into her hand and pouring a small bit into a glass beside her with practiced ease.

“Call it liquid courage if you like, lads and lasses, but whatever it is, it’ll be the thing that gives you enough pluck to take on a siren in a singing contest,” Amathea barred her teeth in that ferocious grin, “Which is what we’re doing here tonight. So, here’s how this works.”

Out of her inventory with a flourish of magic came a silver colored coin. Amathea grinned.

“Reputation for singing have I,” she began, “But I'll be dead before I sing alone. So we have ourselves a game. You take a drink of this white lightning and you sing yourself a song. I know some of you lovely monsters have voices to kill a Scottish cat, so I'll request only one stanza from you. Then you flip this here coin. If the crown winks at you, you pick to your left side who sings next. If it doesn't, you pick to the right. If it falls on its side and it's neither than you've got some luck on ya I can't touch.”

This earned her a few nervous laughs.

“So I'll give you one last chance to back out,” her eyes flicked about the circle daringly, “You have the guts to hear a siren sing and risk your singing back, by all means stay awhile. Relax. Have some fun.”

She barked a laugh, “If not, get outta here.”

There was an exchange around the circle, monsters musing to themselves and each other about getting up and leaving. No one wanting to be the first to admit they were too self-conscious or cowardly to stay and risk singing in front of strangers and friends alike. Grillby flickered nervously, letting out a few apprehensive sparks as he glanced around the circle and saw no one moving. He didn’t _want_ to sing. Though with a sigh he had to admit he couldn’t even really leave the tent while it was raining, so he’d be forced to sit anyway. Perhaps if he were picked he could politely refuse?

‘Alright then,” Amathea growled, leaning back and picking up her glace, “Since I lost the bet, should I start?”

There were apprehensive shiftings and glances. A few monsters nodded, feeling relieved that they wouldn’t be the first ones asked to sing. Others - more enthusiastic and ready for the game - gave brave cheers for Amathea to begin. One of them was Gerson, who seemed to be trying his darndest not to gaze at Amathea with completely star-struck eyes. Amathea tossed around for suggestions on what to sing, laughing at some of the suggestions thrown at her. There were a few love songs, a ballad she had considered but then put down with a wave of her hand. One monster asked after a song in a language Grillby had never heard of before, and there was a special sparkle in Amathea’s eye when she heard it.

“From the north are we?” She asked over the noise of pitching ideas, and the monster humbly nodded. The crowd quieted down, watching as the girl leaned back in thought, sharp teeth chewing at her bottom lip as she cast around for a song. Finally she nodded.

“I’ll not sing that one lad, but I’ll give you one you’ll appreciate,” she said finally, a grin slowly crawling across her face. She tipped her drink back, downing whatever liquor she’d had in her flask in a single gulp. She huffed a sigh, setting the glass aside and rolling her shoulders back as she composed herself. Suddenly the laughing, overbearing and gruff personality was draining from her, replaced with the cool and proud that Grillby had seen her projecting when he’d first spotted her marching into camp. It was intimidating, and the air about her demanded silence, commanded attention.

“I’ll be singing for you bawdy curs _Suil a Ruin_ ,” she paused, glancing around the circle at the questioning stares, “Or in your common speech, _Go My Love_.”

She sighed, eyes drifting closed as she searched back through her memory for the lyrics. And then she opened her mouth and sung. The very sound of it took Grillby’s breath away, as if the air was shimmering with her every word.

“I wish I were on yonder hill

Tis ther I’d sit and Cry my fill

Till every tear would turn a mill…

I’ll sell my rod I’ll sell my reel

I’ll sell my only spinnng wheel

And buy my love a sword of steel…”

A pause passed in which the air shook, shuddering in apprehensive of her next words. Grillby sighed into it.

“ _Suil, suil, suil a ruin_.

_Suil go sochair agus suil go ciuin._

_Suil go doras agus ealaigh liom…_ ”

Amathea paused, feeling the last line come to her with an invisible melody only she could hear.

“ _Is go dte tu… mo mhuirnin… slan_.

“I’ll dye my petticoats, I’ll dye them red,

And ‘round the world I’ll beg my bread,

Until my parents shall wish me dead.”

 _Suil, suil, suil a ruin_.

_Suil go sochair agus suil go ciuin._

_Suil go doras agus ealaigh liom,_

_Is go dte tu… mo mhuirnin… slan.”_

She paused again, drawing in a breath and pausing the magic that held them spellbound. There was some call in her voice, a sound like bells and the rushing of wind that Grillby couldn’t describe. And it pulled at his soul. He found himself leaning in towards her, mirroring the same earnest glances that held many of the monsters around him equally enraptured. And if Amathea minded, or even paid it notice, she showed no signs of it. She just continued with that voice that was smoother than silk and so empty and full. As of it could lull the very cosmos to sleep and in a same motion toss it back into an exhilarated wakefulness. It was indescribable and numbing, and so full of emotion.

“ _Suil, suil, suil a ruin_.

_Suil go sochair agus suil go ciuin._

_Suil go doras agus ealaigh liom,_

_Is go dte tu… mo mhuirnin… slan…_

Go, go, go my love

Go quietly and go peacefully

Go to the door and fly with me

And may you go safely… my darling.”

And just like that, in a single instant, whatever stagnant magic that had held the spheres of the cosmos stopped still dropped itself as if it had never been to begin with. Grillby found himself gasping in a deep breath, his flame billowing to life from where it had managed to dull to such cool shades of orange and red that he’d nearly doused himself. Around him, something similar was happening to the rest of the monsters in the group. Gerson shuddered, sitting back with the stiffness of someone who’d been holding the same position for hours. He rubbed his face tiredly, as if the motion could extinguish what remained in the air of the gripping sound and the magic that came with it. Other monsters coughed or took a moment to just breathe, but all of them were awestruck. Dazed. Trapped in the void left behind when the voice ended. Amathea smiled pitifully at them, taking in a sight she’d doubtlessly seen a thousand times before and would surely see a thousand times after. She gave them a moment to regain composure and save face, to pretend they hadn’t been as pulled in and helpless as they had been.

When Amathea judged them recovered and ready to continue, she flipped that shiny silver coin of hers into the air and grabbed it deftly in her fist.

“So, shall we see which of you sorry souls get’s to test their voice after mine?” She asked with a sly grin.

And so they continued, Amathea flipping the coin and grinning sidelong at her victim of choice - a daring Astigmatism with a courageous look in their eye. They sang the first few lines of a child’s song Grillby had heard some of the young ones singing when he’d passed them at times. It was a lighthearted conversation between a pair of blackbirds, and when the monster ended it the monster they picked to continue it took up the following lines in a heartbeat. They threw back the liquor, some monsters shuddering and coughing at the roughness of it and eliciting jeers from their friends who sat beside them. They sang an odd mix of ballads and nursery rhymes, their voices an amalgamation of trained beauty and gruff misuse. There were laughs shared, acknowledgments given, cheers called and made.

Grillby noticed, no one dared ask Amathea to sing again.

And no one asked him to either.

Gaster sang once, the skeleton proving very quickly he had neither a strong voice nor the temperament to take singing seriously. He sang a repetitive verse about a man in the moon who played on a ladel, and how everything he owned was made of cheese. It was ridiculous and monsters laughed all the while he sang it. Grillby heaved a sigh of relief when the skeleton chose Gerson to sing as opposed to forcing the elemental into the spotlight like he fully expected him to.

The group had clapped and cheered their way through a dozen songs before the first ones finally began conceding to the need to sleep. They finished their drinks and parted ways with friends. A few of the better singing monsters were congratulated on the talent they didn’t know they’d had. Grillby said a final goodbye to Gerson before the two parted ways for the final time.

The night was cool, the rain a faded spattering of it’s former torrential glory. Gaster and Amathea talked in hushed voices as they walked, Gaster congratulating her on her beautiful performance and Amathea dismissing every word he said with quips about his poor taste in music. Though Grillby noticed that through it all, a smile hid on the corner of her lips as she spoke. Of course, Gaster drilled her with questions as well. He asked about the language and how she knew it, where it came from and why he’d never heard her use it before. Amathea answered him with a wistful voice, talking about green isles to the north and strange religions hidden in rolling glens. She spoke of home and how it had once been a place of mystery and harmony. She said nothing of why it wasn’t anymore, or why she was so far south now. But if the scars she bore were any indication, no one needed to ask.

Grillby collapsed into his tent, feeling like his soul was both the lightest and heaviest he’d ever felt it in his entire life. He dulled his fire quickly and slept, eager to make the most of what was left of the night before Amathea woke him in the morning to train. To test his strengths. Possibly to spar. He hoped he didn’t let them down. Or himself down for that matter.

Grillby felt himself rouse once, pulled into wakefulness by movement outside his tent that he wasn’t expecting. He propped himself up on his elbow, watching through a half-asleep daze as Gaster stumbled out of his tent and into the quiet night outside it. The rain had picked up again, but the skeleton didn’t seem to care. He staggered forward several steps before sitting down hard on the wet grass. Grillby couldn’t hear from where he sat, but he knew the skeleton was talking to himself by the way he waved his hands about. The pull in them was shaky, jerking and foreign.

Grillby watched him for a handful of heartbeats, wondering if he should risk the venture outside to ask if he was alright. As he watched though, Gaster pulled himself together to sit cross-legged on the ground. The movements of his hands slowed, finally stopping to rest on his knees calmly. He sat with his back turned to Grillby, gaze focused somewhere outside and vanishing in the distance at some point the elemental couldn’t discern. When he was sure the skeleton was alright, Grillby curled over on his side to sleep again.

Whatever was wrong, he could ask about it in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again lovelies! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I was pretty happy to make it. I'd like to apologize for taking so long in replying to comments! I get really caught up writing this stuff and totally forget basic things like thanking people and answering questions. Which I'm trying to get better at so bear with me!
> 
> I'd just like to say right now - finding music that actually existed in the middle ages that WASN'T a 30 stanza long ballad is hard. I've tried searching half a dozen times, and only tonight managed to find a website that actually catalogued a decent amount of music from the late 1500's, early 1600's. Which is still technically out of my timeline, but it's about as close as I'm going to get at this point. Music didn't really start to take on the form we know it for now until after the Renaissance. Which is something I knew before going into this but gosh darn, I expected to find at least a little more readily available information! Most of the more promising looking sources can only be found in scholarly articles that have to be paid for, or are boarded up in college libraries and still written in either latin or german.
> 
> If any of you guys know of any good online sources for that kind of stuff, let me know because I need it!
> 
> Anywho, about the music listed here and why it's there:
> 
> I probably should have really focused on greek mythology and music of the like since Amathea (and Undyne as well) are names/creatures steeped in Greek mythology. But instead I chose to go for Irish Gaelic for them. There's a mystisism in their music that's quite enjoyable (to me anyway).
> 
> The song "Suil a Ruin" is an Irish love song from around the 1800's, and talks about a girl trying her darndest to prepare her lover for the war he's probably been drafted into fighting. Back around the time the song was made, the Irish were under direct control of the British and were often called away to fight in Brittain's wars.
> 
> The other two songs mentioned are children's songs. The first is "The Bird Song", a variation of which is where the more well known poem "The Twa Corbies" came from. The second is "Aiken Drum".
> 
> For Amathea, I actually had really wanted to give her a song related to the sea to sing (irony, fish monster, ho jeez) but everything I found was a sea chanty from the 1800's and mentioned a lot of stuff that hadn't been invented yet (guns, rapiers, masted ships with canons, etc.) and Suil A Ruin at least had enough ambiguity that it could have existed around the time period I'm going for.


	8. Well that was... something.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grillby cooks and Gaster does a thing.  
> Is he supposed to be able to do that?  
> Huh. Weird.

Grillby awoke at dawn to the sound of a trumpet in the distance, heralding the morning for the sleepy residents of the camp. He yawned and stretched from where he lay, basking in the comforting feeling of his flame slowly fanning itself into strength. It sent a rush of warmth like a shiver through him, and he got to his feet slowly as it surged over him. One glance at the sky outside told him the rain had finally passed over them - there wasn’t a single cloud in sight and the breeze that teased his flame was dry and soft. The sunrise bloomed across the sky in stunning hues and values, some forgotten god painting the new day across a blank canvas.

Grillby blinked, his flame sparking and rippling in deepening hues of worried red. Gaster hadn’t moved from where he’d sat the night before. He was a few yards away from the tents, his back still facing them. He was currently hunched over something, weaving magic through his hands and whatever he had draped over his crossed legs. Grillby meandered over to him.

“Good morning,” he said brightly, stopping beside the skeleton as he worked. He frowned abruptly when he realized what he was working on.

“Wait a second… is that _mine_?” Grillby asked indignantly, and Gaster paused in his work to smirk up at him.

“Oh don’t sound so offended,” he said tiredly, unfolding the tunic from his lap and handing it up to the bewildered elemental, “I just got done, anyway.”

Grillby looked down suspiciously at the skeleton before checking over whatever he’d done to ruin… oh. Well. That’s… Definitely not ruined. Grillby blinked at it for a moment, then down at Gaster. Something in his expression must have given away his confusion, because Gaster laughed tiredly at him.

“It’s a hood,” he explained needlessly, his hands moving slowly with the drawl of his words, “I mean, you need a proper cloak so the rain doesn’t soak through your clothes, but I figured that would at least help.”

He paused and then added a little more bitterly than he’d probably intended, “It’s _fireproofed_. So for heaven’s sakes don’t worry about using it.”

Grillby blinked down at the cloth in his hands.

“You’ve been working on this _all night_?” He asked incredulously, “Why?”

Gaster shrugged before pulling himself to his feet and extending into a long stretch in the same motion. His bones rattled and cracked as he moved, stiff from how long he’d been sitting.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he yawned, “It was bugging me anyway.”

“Well… thank you,” Grillby said gratefully, “I appreciate it. Really.”

Gaster feigned a disgusted face and waved away his words, “Oh don’t, it wasn’t a big deal. I needed something to do anyway. Just wear it next time it rains so we don’t have to worry about you dousing yourself. It’ll get soaked quick though without any proper waterproofing. So keep that in mind.”

Grillby nodded, cataloguing the warning in the back of his mind for later.

“Well aren’t you two just the most adorable things on a late summer's morning?”

Both of them spun around to face Amathea as she emerged from her tent. She bared her teeth at them in an enthusiastic grin, “Bonding. Camaraderie. Helping each other for the common good of all. It’s commendable.”

Gaster and Grillby exchanged a nervous look, cringing at the sarcasm lilting at the edge of her voice.

“What do you _want_ Ammy?” Gaster whined tiredly.

“What every good escort wants,” She replied graciously, borderline patronizingly, “For her two charges to work together in harmony and perfection. Increases the chances of living through battle, builds lifelong partnerships. So, to celebrate this wonderful moment, I propose we start our first task of the day doing a little activity in teamwork.”

“Ho boy,” Gaster sighed, tilting his head back in a subtle eye roll.

Grillby sputtered and crackled nervously, “Shouldn’t we be joining the others for roll call? And probably breakfast as well?”

Gaster ushered a hand pointedly at Grillby, agreeing silently. Amathea just smiled in reply.

“Oh come now you lot, we have a new member in our happy little family,” she purred, tilting her head a bit to look in Grillby’s direction as she finished her sentence, “And as his escort, I need to know what he knows. Helps me train him later, right?”

“I… suppose,” Grillby murmured.

“So,” Amathia flicked her gaze back over to Gaster, who was pouting as best a skeleton could without any lips or eyebrows to emphasize it, “We’re going to stay away from the rest of the camp a little bit. Get to know each other. After all, we could be on the front lines tomorrow. I’d like to know at least a little bit about how we all function as a unit.”

The fish monster paused, eyes rolling upward as she searched her own thoughts, “Breakfast sure sounds nice though. Alright you pair of loggerheaded clouts! First exercise of the day is getting food. Grillby, Gerson tells me you’ve got a good pair of hands around a campfire. We’ll get you ingredients, you cook.”

“ _What?_ ” Gaster groaned, “Why does he get the easy job?”

“Because you could burn water in an ice storm, bonehead,” Amathea grinned, giving Gaster a playful smack on the back of his head, “You’re a better hunter anyway. Nothing hears you coming. Now get.”

Gaster grumbled something incomprehensible underneath his breath, his hands signing out his thoughts bitterly as he walked off.

“And try to find something substantial please!” Amathea called after him, “It’ll be a hard day for ya if you’re sleep deprived _and_ hungry!”

Gaster threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly, not bothering to turn around and shout anything back. Amathea smiled after him fondly, watching him as he disappeared over the top of the hill. She huffed a sigh, shaking her head before directing her attention back to Grillby.

“Alright firefly,” she said, “We’ve got a small cook set you’re welcome to use. Nothing fancy, just a pot and some cups and bowls. You’ll be needing water drawn, am I right?”

Not really knowing how else to respond, Grillby nodded. He wondered for a second if maybe he should offer to get it himself - water got pretty heavy, especially if you only had one arm to work with. Not that Amathea would ever admit she needed that kind of help if she were anything like Thetis. Should he say something? Uhm… Well… No. You know, he probably shouldn’t. She’d probably take offense to that. And Grillby wasn’t too keen on peeving her off so shortly after they’d just met. Amathea moved back to her tent, coming out shortly afterwards with the pot - well it looked more like a small cauldron, by Grillby’s reckoning - under her arm. She moved off wordlessly to fill it with water, vanishing somewhere in the direction of the camp and leaving Grillby to work on setting up a fire. Grillby tried to stomp down his annoyance at the irony.

With a crackling sigh he listed his way about their little camp site, moving some stones into a circle to make a fire pit. If he were thorough, he’d dig a hole in the ground to better contain whatever they lit. But as Amathea had said earlier, they could be on the front lines tomorrow for all they knew. There was no sense in setting up something permanent. And even besides all of that, with Grillby around the fire would never be out of control anyhow. That was one of the quieter, less notable perks to being a fire elemental: fire just tended to listen to you whenever you directed half a thought in it’s general direction.

By the time Amathea had returned, Grillby had a small fire going - though it hissed at him quite angrily past the moistened wood he was forced to use to light it. It should be grateful he even found the half-dry stuff he was feeding it, the petulant little thing! He’d also managed to set up the rack he’d be suspending the pot over, and dug out the spice box from his inventory that had been collecting dust - the harmless, dirt-related kind - since the last time he’d used it while deployed. Amathea nodded to him approvingly, leaving the pot with him before moving off to ‘find some greens’. He wished her luck - this _really_ wasn’t the time of year that any of that stuff would be growing. Unless she fancied chowing down on dandelion leaves and too-early-chives with whatever thing Gaster brought back.

Grillby hoisted the pot over the fire and waited, watching with quiet boredom as it struggled to boil. He fidgeted through his inventory, deciding with a sigh that no, polishing things for the two-hundredth time since he’d last used them probably wouldn’t be a productive way of waiting - though he did convince himself checking to make sure nothing had tarnished was a good enough idea. … Nope. No change there. Grillby shifted where he stood, wracking his mind for something to do while he waited on the others to return with, well, everything he needed to actually do his job. One of the more damp logs in the fire collapsed as the one beneath it crumbled, sending a small plume of smoke blooming around the pot as it heated and setting the fire to hissing and sputtering. Grillby laughed quietly at it, reaching a hand in to reposition the logs so the fire could breathe a little better.

“Oh hush,” he mumbled at it, “I’m fixing it, stop complaining.”

“Can you actually talk fire?”

Grillby jumped, letting out a muffled shriek of surprise - and also nearly knocking the cauldron off it’s hook. He managed to stop it from tipping, though not before a bit had sloshed over the side, onto his hand and into the fire. Both he and the flame he’d been tending let out a pair of angry, fwooshing shouts and clouds of steam. Grillby staggered back away from the sputtering mess, crackling angry curses under his breath and wringing out his stinging hand. Gaster was beside him in an instant.

“Ah, whoops! Sorry sorry!” He said quickly, weaving close to the elemental to inspect the wound, “Here hold still, let me help.”

“No _thank you_ ,” Grillby sputtered, sparks weaving their way around him furiously as he backpedaled away from the approaching skeleton, “I’m fine. I’m _fine!_ ”

He huffed out an angry breath, smoke curling about his face in wisps as he gazed down at his arm. The fire on his hand had nearly extinguished itself into a molten, congealed red, bruising with hints of orange and blue. He rubbed at it distractedly, his whole body lilting into golds and yellows as he winced uncomfortably at the sting. Gaster watched him apprehensively - but also curiously, Grillby noticed with a frown.

“It’s just… put out a little,” Grillby muttered finally, defensively.

“Grillby, I'm a doctor,” Gaster sighed, flashing a strained smile, “Let me fix it up. I swear I can't _possibly_ make it worse.”

“I’m _fine,”_ the elemental growled back with a forceful spark. He took a step back away from Gaster and tucked the wounded hand underneath his arm, shielding it from sight.

Gaster rolled his eyes and groaned, “Oh for heaven’s sakes…!”

He flicked his wrist, and Grillby suddenly found his very soul tugged still by blue. He hardly managed to stutter a protest before Gaster had closed the distance between them and snatched up the elemental’s hand in his own.

Gaster glared down at it for a second. There was a spark, like lightening but smaller and more frail, that arched out from the skeleton’s chest where his soul should be. His free hand signaled it, striking and stinging Grillby’s molten hand for a moment. It resonated with something in his soul - he felt it give a slight, itching tug - and then the fire on his hand bloomed back to life as if it had never been stifled. The whole thing could have happened in the blink of an eye. If Grillby had looked away for an instant he wouldn't have seen it happen.

If this was healing magic, it was of a kind Grillby had never seen before.

Gaster whistled a low tune past his clenched teeth, “Huh… Strange.”

“W… What’s strange?”

Gaster paused and looked into Grillby’s eyes, face set in a stern and deathly frown. His voice was heavy and serious as he spoke.

“Its interesting really. All that fuss and neither of us has turned to dust yet.”

He cracked a grin, and Grillby scoffed and scowled. He sent Gaster staggering back with a shove - setting the skeleton laughing that rattling, wheeze of a laugh of his.

“Oh get out of here,” Grillby frowned at him, “Don't you have a job to do or something?”

“Already done,” Gaster chuckled past a smug grin. He reached into his inventory, offering out three blackbirds. Grillby couldn't help but gape.

“No way.”

The skeleton shrugged, “I managed to grab a rabbit too. We don't really need that though. Ammy will probably make jerky out of it or something.”

“ _How?_ ”

Gaster laughed, “I mean, you're definitely not the only thing out here who can't hear me coming.”

His laughed petered out into something more nervous and regretful, “... Sorry about that, by the way.”

“We’ll see how sorry you are after I've stitched a bell to your collar,” Grillby threatened mildly, “But blackbirds? I've never worked with delicacies before.”

Gaster shrugged, settling nearby to begin preparing the things so they could cook, “Bird is bird. Just because some human noble says only kings can eat it doesn't mean a thing.”

Grillby shrugged. Gaster could be right. Then again, humans tended to have at least _some_ vague reason for doing things - and Grillby was no palace chef. He was also pretty sure he’d heard somewhere you were supposed to bake these things into pies instead of stewing them… However that was supposed to be managed.

As soon as Gaster was done cleaning them Grillby set to work cooking. Not that stew was hard to cook at all - it was something any monster could do if they had the patience to watch and stir and make sure nothing burned. Fire magic was helpful but not exactly required for this sort of thing. By the time the fowl was half-cooked Amathea finally returned. Her boots were muddy and her hair disheveled, but she offered from her inventory a small number of plants and roots Grillby had never seen before - though he trusted her when she said they were edible. Gaster mumbled something bitterly about how sick he was of eating cattails.

It took an hour, lots of stirring and puzzling over what ingredients he was actually cooking with, but Grillby finally managed to make something that was edible. He tried it first just to make sure - not that he didn’t trust Amathea or Gaster, they just... didn’t really seem like the cooking type.

“Well I’ll give you one thing elemental, they were right when they said you could cook,” Amathea chuckled past a mouthful of food.

“Would’ve been easier to just get something from camp,” Gaster grumbled, though Grillby noticed he didn’t have any trouble eating the food he was offered.

Amathea shook his head at him, flashing a long-suffering smile at Grillby as she did. See? Look at this! I deal with this every day, can you believe it? Grillby did his best to stifle his laugh into his soup as he sipped it. Hmm… blackbird was definitely a human dish. Grillby sure didn’t have a taste for it. Though whatever Amathea had brought tasted decent. He’d have to ask her what it was later.

Next on Amathea’s list of ‘bonding activities’ was combining their tents - something Grillby shuddered at but begrudgingly conceded to. She was his escort after all, what she said went (plus the extra canvas space was perfect for pacing in on rainy days, which there were sure to be more of). Both Ammy and Gaster were surprised he didn’t have a bed of any sort to sleep on. Both of them had bed rolls - Amathea actually looked to be in the process of converting hers into a hammock for whatever reason. But Grillby reassured them that he was perfectly fine the way he was, and added quietly to himself that if Gaster startled him again it was one less thing he’d likely catch on fire.

“Alright lads,” Amathea said with a smirk, “Break time.”

“Seriously?”

Gaster patted Grillby on the shoulder, smiling dryly, “Oh don’t worry, Ammy doesn’t give breaks unless something terrible is about to happen. Right Ammy?”

Both of her charges gave her skeptical looks - Grillby’s noticeably more worried than Gaster’s. Amathea grinned a little bigger, an excited sheen lighting up her eyes.

“Aw, and here I thought I was unpredictable,” she whined, though the grin on her face didn’t so much as twitch, “Enjoy your free time while you have it. I’m going to the parade grounds. And by the time I get back, you two better be ready.”

She pointed a clawed finger at Grillby, “You and me are going to have a spar, tinderbox.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooooooooo sorry for how long this took guys! Life decided to throw me for a tailspin! I had a couple big art projects due/new ones assigned. A test to take. A lecture to attend.  
> And wouldn't you know it, I'm an aunt now :'D  
> Man a lot happens in a week and a half ahahaha. Ohhhh gosh. You know, I never did do the whole 'fawning all over adorable babu' thing before but now I think I could give it a shot. I mean, it doesn't help that my sister keeps dressing him up like a dinosaur.
> 
> Anywho! About the only things I really needed to research for this one was the food nom nom stuffs and how it's cooked. And also the nickname at the end. I was gonna make Ammy call him 'matchstick' but wouldn't you know it, matches weren't invented until the 1800's. Who knew, right?
> 
> As for the food, blackbirds were indeed considered a delicacy (four and twenty blackbirds baaaaaaked in a pie! man that song's been stuck in my head all week). Only nobles and people of high standing could afford to have them prepared and cooked, and they were indeed prepaired in pies. Other animals on the list of 'peasants how dare you even look at this awesomeness' were doves, swans and peacocks. Among many, many others. And yes, you can eat cattails. You can also build shelters with them, use their fluff to stuff mattresses, make flour out of them, etc. Like... they're awesome.


	9. Well that went from 0 to "IT'S OVER 9000!!!" pretty quickly actually

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we talk a little bit about butt-kicking and actually manage to do some.  
> Wow, not sure I expected that outcome. Underdogs, am I right?

Grillby's break time went much less in the way of a relaxing break, and much more in the way of nervous pacing around the campfire. And while he was stamping a neat circle into the grass, Amathea went to prepare the field, and Gaster napped. Or at least, he _looked_ like he was napping. He was lying beneath the tree their tents were pitched beside, arms pillowed behind his head, just staring at the sky. The lights of his eyes were gone; it was the only reason Grillby thought he might be sleeping and not just staring off into the distance. The skeleton had actually fallen asleep with his sockets closed - however that was managed. But at some point during Grillby's pacing the sockets had opened. It was a little startling, more than a little disturbing. It was also weird seeing the monster so still. He didn't even breathe - though as a skeleton he probably didn't need to.

Would it be an understatement to say Grillby didn't want to spar? When Gaster had mentioned that's how Amathea trained, Grillby hadn't really expected that to mean it would happen immediately. It was exasperating, nerve wracking. Of course, he had no reason to be worried. While Grillby definitely wasn't the epitome of pin-point control and accuracy when it came to fighting, he was pretty good at only hitting what he wanted to hit. And if for some reason he managed to hit Amathea? Well if she was half the war goddess Gerson made her out to be, her stats were bound to be at levels that could take a hit from Grillby. Take several hits even. But there was still that _chance_ …

There was that tiny little voice in the back of his mind that said he could kill someone, very easily, even on accident. Losing control of everything for even so much as a second was too much.

Grillby paused mid-step when he heard Gaster move, shuffling into a drowsy sitting position. He balanced his spindly arms on his knees, blinking ahead unseeingly as the lights of his eyes slowly relit. He watched as the skeleton's eyes searched something in the distance that wasn't there, looking slightly lost. With a groan and a blink, though, Gaster had snapped out of whatever half-asleep daze he'd managed to drag himself into, and he rubbed the side of his skull tiredly.

"You know, for someone who doesn't sleep much, you sure enjoy taking naps," Grillby observed, a smile in his voice. Gaster flopped onto his back dramatically, stretching himself out in the shade with a yawn.

"I nap _because_ I don't sleep much," he grumbled.

Grillby shrugged. Made sense, he supposed.

"And you _do know_ the more energy you waste on pacing, the harder it'll be to control yourself right?"

Grillby crackled an indignant huff, crossing his arms, "What makes you think that's what I'm worried about?"

Gaster laughed drowsily, signing lazily into the air above his chest as he spoke, "What are you thinking right now, friend?"

There was a pause.

"Ten gold says it's about the spar."

Grillby shifted uncomfortably on his feet, a little too prideful to admit the skeleton was right. And also a little uncomfortable he'd been pegged so easily - though he supposed all his fretting was pretty easy to catch onto.

"You know, meditation does wonders for that kind of nervousness," Gaster offered, finally sitting up again and deciding to stay there. He chuckled at the confusion that rippled through Grillby's flames in blues.

"Yeah, pick a god and start talking," he said with an easygoing shrug, "I hear they tend to be forgiving. Well… except the southern ones. Or you could hum I guess, if you're the singing type. Chanting works too I guess if you aren't musically inclined."

Grillby blinked at the skeleton quizzically. He never would've figured Gaster would do anything calming. He seemed a little too scattered for that. The elemental shrugged inwardly. He'd only known the skeleton for a day. He probably shouldn't be making too many assumptions in the first place. Gaster watched the elemental expectantly before finally clearing his throat.

"You… going to ask any questions?"

"What?"

Gaster chuckled, "A monster you barely know introduces a weird thing to you and you're not even the least bit curious? No 'what do you meditate on?'? 'What are you thinking?'? 'Why do you do this thing?'?"

Grillby gave a flustered crackle, "It's not my place to pry…?"

The skeleton grinned up at Grillby from where he sat, "You live a boring life friend."

The elemental gave an indignant 'harumph!' and crossed his arms, "And I suppose you like talking about yourself too much."

Gaster shrugged, "Maybe. But if I'm encouraging someone else to explore the world around them at the expense of my own privacy, I'd say it's a small price to pay. How do you expect to find your place in this world if you don't know how the world works?"

Grillby shook his head, "My place in this world was dictated by whoever summoned me. I don't need to explore past that. You might think it's _boring_ , but it's just… simple like that."

"That would be where you're wrong friend," Gaster stretched where he sat and finally got to his feet. He tilted his head at Grillby, "This war won't last forever you know. Maybe past my lifetime, but I've heard you elementals have a funny way with time?"

Grillby gave a cautious nod.

"So say nobody douses you before or immediately after all this ends? For better or worse, you're stuck here," he made a grand gesture at the air around him, "What happens then? I doubt you'll just fade away after your 'purpose' is gone. Assuming you haven't already found something else to live for, what will you do?"

What… would he do? No, no wait there was no point in thinking about this. Well… maybe there was a bit of a point. But there were a lot of 'if's involved and immeasurable and unpredictable time in between. The concept… did make him nervous though.

"And you meditate on these kind of things?" Grillby asked apprehensively, his flame flickering in an erratic fidget, "I can't possibly see that as relaxing."

Gaster laughed, waving his hands as if he could brush away what the elemental had said, "Well of course it isn't! This is heavy stuff. Stuff you figure out over time, y'know? Well, I suppose some monsters might grasp something like that and find relief in it but I'm not self-assured enough for that."

He ushered for Grillby to come closer, "But here, if you'd like I could show you-"

The skeleton trailed off, glancing past Grillby for a heartbeat and then rolling his eyes, "Aw Ammy! Five more minutes."

Grillby turned as the fish monster approached. She was grinning a broad, hungry smile, the kind of thing Grillby imagined you might see on a shark when it had set it's appetite on something.

"Nope!" She snapped briskly, though not unkindly, "I was so kind to give you lubberworted lot some time to slack off. Now we're working - let no monster say Amathea the Brave trained a pair of scobberlotchers! If you're not ready that's your own fault."

She paused for a moment and then said, "And both of you bring any armor you've got. We're doing this the _right_ way."

With a flourish and a spin she stormed back towards the main camp fully expecting her reluctant charges to follow - which they did. The three of them skirted and muddled their way through the teeming camp, the downpour from the night before doing a grand job of turning every road and path through the place into a muddy mess. Grillby had to step carefully on more than one occasion, taking care not to sting himself on any of the many patches of standing water that littered the world around him. He noticed Gaster watched him, curious and concerned.

At last they came once again to the parade grounds, which was once again a soggy mess. Grillby noticed in the center Amathea had marked off a rectangle for sparring, the ground churned and destroyed by what he guessed must have been the work of dozens of spears. It was plenty of space for a fight, and as they approached teal-colored, glowing spears burst out of the ground in a cage around it. Grillby tried not to flinch at the sight of it.

"Alright you two," Amathea turned back to face them, fist firmly planted on her hip, "Equip what you need to, let's get started."

Grillby flickered nervously, his flame teasing into a worried red. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably, flicking through his inventory twice before finally sighing and and closing it again.

"Would it be too much to ask…" Grillby murmured with another sigh, "... if I could… see where you two are at first?"

Something in his core was shivering with worry. And he knew there was no reason for it. He'd gotten used to how Gerson fought, and they two of them had sparred well. And as Grillby had told Gaster the night before, he'd never _ever_ hurt anyone he hadn't intended to. Even when he'd fought with Gerson, any hit point pulled out of place was as controlled and intentional as Grillby could manage. Not to mention that for Amathea to be an escort, she, of course, had to be able to handle herself. And from the way Gaster tossed his magic around, he was probably just as proficient. He shouldn't be worried.

If only it could be that simple.

Amathea scowled, lips curling into something that much more resembled a snarl than her previous grin, "What? Absolutely not."

Grillby felt his flame flicker a little lower, dismayed. Gaster blinked at him, those pin-prick eyes gleaming.

"This little exercise here is so _I_ can know what _you_ can do. Not the other way around," she said matter-of-factly, "And knowing Gerson's sparring habits, I highly doubt you're much of a match for me anyway. I admire his passion and intent! But he's not exactly a Dreemurr in a fight."

Gaster watched Grillby hesitate, watched him sputter nervously for a second. And then with dramatic suddenness, Gaster slumped his weight against Amathea, propping himself up against her shoulder with his elbow. She flashed him an indignant snarl, which he returned with that ever-so-lackadaisical grin.

"Get off me!"

"Oh don't mind her, Grillby," Gaster made a show of a fake yawn, ignoring the fidgeting monster as she shoved him off, "She's just scared she'll lose and look bad in front of her new charge. Guess she's not really all that brave, huh?"

There was a second where all expression wiped off of Amathea's face. A second where she blinked at Gaster incredulously and the gears in her mind ground to a halt, slowly processing what he'd just said. And just as slowly, her mouth writhed its way into the most vicious scowl Grillby had ever seen. Gaster remained unfazed, though Grillby noticed he'd started moving his hands in the same motion several times in a row, with the expression and intent of someone who had just started seriously questioning their life choices.

"Excuse. _You?!_ "

"I mean, she's a great fighter don't get me wrong, and sure she _might_ beat me," Gaster grinned wider by the second, side-eyeing his mentor with impish glee as her temper started seething, "But she _definitely_ couldn't win against me _and_ you. Let's just be honest here. So go on, humor her. She's gotta look good to ya for at least a couple weeks."

Amathea burst out with an angry laugh, stopping Gaster before he could say more, "I'm sorry, it sounds to me like you think you can take me on _bonehead_."

She punctuated the end of her sentence with a sharp jab of her forefinger at the skeleton's sternum. Gaster laughed painfully past it.

"I mean, I'm not saying I _couldn't_ take you, if that's what you're insinuating."

Once again, the fish monster's expression wiped blank. She narrowed her eyes at the skeleton for a moment, ear frills twitching tempestuously and her gills flaring in an angry huff. In an instant she whipped her hand forward, clenching it shut around a fistful of Gaster's tunic close to the skeleton's delicate neck bones. Her face split into an exhilarated grin. For the first time since the exchange began, Gaster's facade broke into an extremely nervous frown.

"You're on, Gaster!"

With a solid swing of her arm, Amathea ripped Gaster off his feet and sent him flying over her hedge of spears and into the fighting square. The skeleton landed with an ungraceful, rattling crash. He was on his feet in an instant though, backpedaling away from the angry fish monster as she vaulted over the line of spears herself. As soon as they were a good distance apart, Amathea shot forward her first attack - a shower of blue spears that arched towards Gaster in diving spirals. Grillby watched in amazement as the skeleton danced out of the way of every single one, moving so quickly that, if the elemental had blinked, he never would have seen him move at all. Just before the shower of spears stopped, however, a single spear jerked its way out of the ground, the crackling green magic shattering through Gaster and forcing the skeleton onto one knee. There was an aura of green that surrounded him, and a shimmering green shield attached itself to his soul.

"That's cheating Ammy!" Gaster shouted to her across the field, "You know I can't lift this thing!"

Amathea let out a peal of half-manic laughter, "I'm sorry! I can't hear you over the sound of me winning!"

Her attacks resumed, that same volley of spears ripping through the sky and arching towards a now pinned Gaster. It was all the skeleton could do to heft the shield into place in time to black the spears from smashing into him. Those he couldn't move for in time he countered, bone magic fizzling into existence and rippling upwards to shatter the spears of crackling magic before they could leach away his HP. He did this for volley after volley, remaining stubbornly untouchable as Amathea used increasingly fast-moving and intricate patterns in an attempt to shatter his defense. And he should remain untouchable! Amathea would be ashamed of him otherwise - after all, they'd been sparring partners for months now, hadn't they?

When the volleys didn't work Amathea dropped the green magic and Gaster stumbled back onto his feet with a gasp of relief. It was only there for a moment though, as soon he was dancing from one place to the other, dancing out of the way as spears leaped up to stab him from the ground beneath his feet. Gaster jumped forward out of the way of a spear, planted his foot firmly on the ground for a moment and flicked his wrist upwards.

A bone attack bloomed out of the ground beneath his foot, shooting him up into the air with an exhilarated whoop! Gaster wreathed himself in spinning circles of bone attacks, and with a move of his hands sent them cascading on Amathea from above as he plummeted back to the earth. The fish monster smashed through them with a spear she summoned into her hand, spinning it with her wrist in elaborate flourishes that Grillby could hardly follow.

As soon as Gaster's feet touched the ground he sent a wave of bones rippling outward towards Amathea, the interlocking attacks mealing about and churning up the ground as they rumbled forward. The skeleton shot after them, moving so quickly he could keep up with the magic as it rippled forward. Amathea spun, crackling spear extended, cleaving a spot of safety for herself and deftly dodging a swing from a bone club that Gaster had materialized during his run.

Then began an intimate and intricate dance between them, fighting with the weapons in their hands as they stepped and ducked and weaved to and fro for safety. And as they did they continued to summon attacks, patterns of bones ripping apart magical spears and shattering into magical static and dust not seconds later. Whenever Gaster's club smashed into Amathea's spear, it too would shatter, the brittle, summoned bone nothing against the strength and intent behind the weapon Amathea bore. But whenever it shattered Gaster reformed it with such speed and precision that it hardly seemed to disappear at all. It was something that took skill and, honestly, it left Grillby impressed to say the least.

What decided the fight was a clever maneuver on Amathea's part. She shattered Gaster's club in one forward swing, reversed her grip and swung back towards the skeleton again without a second's hesitation. He took a step back to dodge, slamming his heel down into a waiting and crackling green spear. Gaster had enough time to feel the magical gravity yank him downwards before Amathea's next attack dispelled it, and while he was off-balanced the fish monster knocked his feet out from under him.

Gaster found himself lying in the mud, Amathea's foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground. A hail of spears and crackling magic hovered above the both of them, prickling and ready to strike.

Gaster laughed out an exhausted breath, "So when I said I could win…"

"Blowin' smoke outta both sides of your mouth again, weren't ya?"

Amathea moved back, offering a hand to help Gaster to his feet as her magic dissolved into nothingness above them. She shoved him out of the sparring ring, once again planting her fist on her hip and grinning at Grillby with a prideful sneer.

"So, elemental," she grinned, "You still wondering if I'm good enough for you?"

In spite of himself, Grillby had to laugh. And he had to admire Amathea. Through her entire fight, the cage of magic she'd erected hadn't flickered once. She was disheveled but whole, her concentration flawless. And she seemed to have energy to spare.

Plus that temper she had that made Grillby rethink asking if she wanted to rest before fighting again so soon.

Gaster groaned and collapsed onto the ground beside Grillby's feet, rubbing the side of his face tiredly.

"You owe me," the skeleton laughed good-naturedly, and Grillby beamed down at him. Gaster shoved weakly at the elemental's legs as he walked towards the sparring ring.

"Go get her, firefly."

Instead of jumping over the array of spears like Amathea and Gaster had, Grillby walked right through them. It always felt weird having another monster's magic pass through him, like for a second he was looking into something deeper than they knew existed. For a brief second he felt something inside it, visceral and emotional and raw. A stubborn grit, loyalty and fondness. A fondness of life and a fondness of the living. It was protective and encompassing, matronly.

Maybe 'angry fish mom' was more apt a description for Amathea than Gaster realized.

As Grillby approached he equipped his armor, feeling its familiar weight as it settled across his body. It was pretty useless in the grand scheme of things, made to make him look more intimidating than he already was, and not really offering much in the way of protection. Light chainmail settled neatly over his tunic, darkly stained steel gauntlets clung to his hands, the fingers cut short so he could grip and burn anyone who got too close. There were pauldrons that clung to his shoulders, stained the same dark as his gauntlets and pointed sharply at his shoulders. There was a belt sashed firmly around his waist, which held his scabbard and his sword. And of course his shield - which he didn't need and decided not to use for this fight at least.

Amathea looked him up and down, nodding her approval before equipping a similar array on herself - though the sleeve of one arm was trimmed off, for obvious reasons. And she also had a breastplate to help protect her chest better than the light chainmail ever could - a hard enough hit with a heavy weapon and the links tended to break. She had a cape as well, one that stopped at her waist and hung off her shoulders like lavender silk. There was some magic infused in it, Grillby could tell, though what it was and what it did he had no idea.

"First off," Amathea shouted across the field to him, "Got a couple rules we use for the spar. Break any of them, and you've forfeit your bragging rights for the round."

She smirked at this before continuing, "Rule one! Stay inside the spears at all times - magical attacks included. Keeps bystanders from getting backlash."

Grillby glanced around - bystanders? Sure enough, while Amathea and Gaster had been duking it out, the tiny beginnings of a crowd had begun to form. A couple of the monsters watching looked like they were taking bets already. How wonderful.

"Rule two!" Grillby snapped his attention back to his escort, "You can't take more than half your opponent's hit points. There's no use in sparring if we're beating each other half to dust - not like you'll be bothered by that. But the rest of us will. Don't worry, me and Gaster know our limits just fine. We'll tell you if we've had enough."

"Good to know," Grillby muttered worriedly.

"Final rule," Amathea squared her shoulders, a spear materializing into her hand, "Is a general fighting rule. No cheap shots. No throwing your opponent out of the cage or elbows or fists where they shouldn't belong. All that nonsense. Now…!"

"Show me what you've got!" Amathea dared him.

Grillby nodded and at his command, fire billowed to life around him in a ring, heat surging and filling the air with the water that had soaked the ground. He sent a wave of the flame at Amathea, something huge and impressive that took up the entire width of their fighting space and rose several feet into the air. It broke and cascaded down on the fish monster like a flood.

She answered it with green, that emerald shield springing to life in her hands and absorbing what magical flames that touched it. And forward went an answering surge of spears, tearing apart the battered earth around Grillby's feet. The elemental walked through them unheeded, stumbling maybe once as the attacks ripped through his form and vanished with the crackling static of spent magic. Aside from making his walk inconvenient, they didn't harm him at all. Amathea blinked at him in surprise - obviously she hadn't expected that. Though already there was a keen glint in her eye, that warrior's intuition that Gerson so praised springing to life in the face of a challenge.

Grillby wondered what she was thinking. And then rolled his eyes at how Gaster-ish of a thought that was.

The elemental drew his sword and strode towards Amathea, fire lighting the air around him that spun and sputtered with potential before pouncing forward towards the fish monster. It roared and surging in jets of concentrated fire magic, tearing apart the wall of spears Amathea erected to defend herself. She just barely leaped out of the way as they converged in a searing pillar where she'd been standing. But instead of being afraid, angry or anything else Grillby would have expected, she was laughing. Laughing with exhilaration and adrenaline as she was forced to dive and roll out of the way of pillars and waves and walls of flame. And all the while Grillby approached her, one confident step after another, fire billowing behind him and lacing through the cracks and holes in his armor like some twisting cape in the wind. The heat of it dried and cracked the ground he walked on, and made his armor begin to glow.

When they were close enough Grillby halted his waves of attacks in favor of his sword, and it flashed and cleaved through the air in powerful blows that sent stinging numbness through Amathea's arm when she blocked them. She grunted and reeled from the shock of it - Grillby could see it in the look in her eyes and how she flinched under the hit that she hadn't expected it. Most didn't. After all, Grillby didn't _look_ strong. But really what was form to a creature made of magic, to something that could change that form at will if they really _really_ wanted to?

Amathea caught onto it fast, faster that Gerson had when they'd first sparred at least. Caught on to how unstoppable the elemental was. He took no damage from magical or physical attacks. His sword work was strong enough to keep her pinned in place, heavy enough that she could hardly block the strikes he executed. He didn't send fire in patterns, or reserve his magic for an extended fight, because his magic could extend for as long as he was alive. There was no need to hold back, to practice restraint. She didn't even know if it was possible for him to tire.

She was going to lose.

Not because he was better than her. Not because he was smarter than her. Not because she lacked skill or tact, or because she wasn't prepared enough or strong enough. He was going win simply because he was too powerful to lose.

But he wasn't perfect, he wasn't immortal.

Amathea broke away from Grillby, panting and shaking from the strain of the fight. Though Grillby noticed that the wall of spears caging them in still hadn't faltered. The gleam in her eyes wasn't desperate, her frown spiteful. No, she had the look of someone who still had a plan. Amathea dropped the spear in her hand, letting it fizzle away into magical static at her feet. She squared her shoulders and took a calming breath.

And before the elemental could react, suddenly he was locked in place by her voice.

_"_ _Come all you pretty young local girls…"_

She was stepping close to him again, cautiously, making sure the spell of her song was working. Grillby felt the grip on his sword slip out from between his fingers.

"... _A warning take by me..."_

He couldn't move. He could hardly think.

_"_ _... And don't be quick to fall in love…"_

What even was this song? He'd never heard anything like it before. Maybe it was another something from where she came from.

_"_ _... With everyone you see…"_

Wait, he shouldn't be thinking about music right now. What was he doing again?

_"_ _... For when they're in their prenticeship…"_

Grillby was suddenly aware of a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to kneel. He blinked and realized he was staring up into Amathea's bright yellow eyes.

_"_ _... They'll swear their time is out…"_

Was that… _cold_ he was feeling? Grillby had never felt cold before. It felt a bit like getting rained on. It was uncomfortable.

_"_ _... Then they'll leave you, as mine left me…"_

That was when Grillby realized the glow that reflected in Amathea's eyes was red. Cool. Dim. Dying red. If he could panic, he would, but whatever fog she kept him under held even that reflex in place. He wanted to stay something, to tell her to stop. This was bad, this was _bad_.

… right…?

_"_ _... To blow the candle out."_

As soon as the song had ended, whatever magic in her voice that was holding Grillby still released him. Grillby gasped, his flame swelling back to bright life and sending a shudder through his very core. Amathea stepped away from him, gave him space to breathe for a minute. When he looked at her again there was a new respect there, and a fear. Her expression remained as calm as her voice had been.

"We'll call it a draw," the fish monster said finally, watching Grillby with those eyes that had turned calculating, measuring the fight and what new information it had brought her. It took her a minute, but eventually she managed to crack a smile at him.

"You're not half bad, tinderbox," she smiled, offering the elemental a hand and helping him stand, "You gave me a run of it. That was impressive."

"Thanks."

_Wow_ , that came out a lot shakier than he'd expected it to. Amathea noticed it. She looked him up and down, a thoughtful frown dragging at the corners of her lips.

"You alright?"

"Fine enough."

She paused and looked him over again, "You're not lying to me are you?"

Grillby managed a tired laugh, "No I'm not lying."

"Good," she said, her smile inching back across her face again. She gave him a punch on the shoulder, which he gathered was supposed to be reassuring, "You did alright, elemental. You're a mindless brute of a fighter, but we'll drill some tactical sense into that head of yours."

Amathea walked past him towards one of the walls of her fence of spears, which even still bristled with the same power and intent as they had before.

"So, you've got a weakness to water, and apparently siren song," Amathea chimed as she went, "Anything else?"

"Uhm… not that I know of."

"And you wouldn't lie to me about that right," she shot him a stiff glare over her shoulder.

"Not at all."

Amathea paused just in front of her spears, adding something together in her mind. Finally she seemed to come to a decision and hopped over the fence.

"GASTER!"

The skeleton - who had apparently fallen into a doze at some point during their fight, either from the siren song or his own laziness - shot to his feet in alarm… only to groan in annoyance not a second later.

"What do you _want_ Ammy?" He whined, "I've done my spar for the day."

"Not enough of one," the fish monster grinned at him, "Grillby's up for one more round. Aren't you tinderbox?"

"I mean… not really...?"

"Listen to that rousing enthusiasm!" Amathea laughed, shoving Gaster back towards her fighting square again. The skeleton paused just outside the hedge of spears, tossing a look of concern back at his mentor.

"Target practice, bonehead."

Gaster blinked at her for a moment, the ridge above his good eye going down in concern, "You're not serious."

The fish monster flashed him a patient smile, or as patient as her smiles could get anyway, before calling back over towards Grillby, "Only water and siren song, right tinderbox?"

"That I know of!" Grillby felt his core give a nervous shudder. He _just_ got done figuring out he was a bit more mortal than he'd thought he was. Did they really need to tempt fate again so soon?

Much to Grillby's dismay, Gaster gave a shrug and took a running leap over the spears and into the fighting square. Grillby became faintly aware that the crowd that had gathered before him and Amathea had been fighting was getting larger. He suddenly found himself feeling very exposed, very worried. Very much like he shouldn't be where he was right now.

"Well, this should be interesting," Gaster chuckled, "Right firefly?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first off I just wanna take a second and say thanks for all your support guys! Seriously your reviews are always so nice and they help keep me going. Like you have no idea. It's always a joy to know that you like how the story is going so far and I hope to continue to bring you guys good content!
> 
> And with that, I'll throw you guys my rundown of information for this chapter!
> 
> First of all, this is our first chapter to top 5000 words. Not gonna lie, as soon as battle scenes start happenin', it'll probably happen again. Especially with one in particular that I'm really really excited about hmmm... it's not gonna be for awhile though. Sad day!
> 
> Secondly, my search history has been everywhere for this chapter! I've looked up everything from medieval insults to how you spell Asgore's last name (I keep forgetting what the hell) to what armor was actually worn alongside light chain-mail, to the agni-ki fight scenes in Avatar (I could rewatch that finale for years though so I don't mind ahaha). I'm still looking up references for how Grillby might fight. Obviously he doesn't use the firebending moves to summon his fire. Pretty sure the middle ages hadn't seen any of those fighting styles gravitating from the East yet (not to mention there's nothing in game that says the monsters actually move when they fight. I always imagined them standing relatively still and summoning attacks from wherever they stood. I mean, for my fights I have people moving and dodging for practicality's sake... and it IS implied that monsters CAN dodge, like Asgore and Sans... I'm getting off topic). However! I do like how fire is used there to fight, and how it can be countered with other 'magical' type attacks. So for now I'm using it as a reference.
> 
> Anyway, in case it wasn't obvious yet: I see Grillby as the typical powerhouse, OP fighter. He doesn't really have to worry about precision on the field since his main objective is taking out as maaaaany humans as possible. Amathea is a heavy hitter but she has to be wise about how she uses her magic, especially since she has to compensate for her missing arm. Gaster is speedy. Super speedy. We'll see more of that next chapter.
> 
> I haven't decided whether I want him to actually teleport yet or if he's just super fast. I mean, insane speed for him would make sense to me anyway. He weighs like... maybe 50 pounds. Imagine having all the power and force of a grown man and only needing to move 50 pounds of weight around. You'd be flyin' (well, in theory anyway). Though on the flip side of that, one hard smack could probably sent him spinning off into the distance a la Team Rocket.
> 
> Aaaaaaaaand lastly (woooo this got long fast, if you guys read all this you deserve some kudos or a cookie or something!), the song Amathea sings! It is in fact another Irish one that was first printed in the 1700's, though it was supposedly hanging around for longer than that. Probably not the middle ages, but I can dream. It is called "Blow the Candle Out", and it talks about a girl who was waiting on her love to come back from his apprenticeship to raise their son together. And instead he writes her a letter and says 'nah sorry i'd rather not' by the end. Pretty shitty thing to do there sir.


	10. You know, these parlor tricks of yours are a bit too death-y for my taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which being hit by an angry dragon lazer beam of death is actually a much less pleasant experience than most generally assume it is. Assuming you thought it could be nice in the first place, that is.

Gaster made a show of stretching and shaking himself off, doing a really good job of looking like there was nothing in this world worth a care. Grillby of course felt the exact opposite, but the good thing about lacking facial features was no one could really tell how tense he was. Well, aside from the way his fire kept changing color, but that was something Grillby knew most monsters didn’t read into. Or at the very least couldn’t figure out when they did. Except for Gaster, who by some strange miracle had already been able to figure out when the elemental was more nervous than normal.

“You ready to get this thing started?” Gaster laughed, rolling up his sleeves in preparation for a fight. Of course, the sleeves were so baggy over his slender bones that they just dragged back down again, but Grillby did catch the glint of chainmail underneath them. When had he equipped that?

“I’m not ready at all.”

Gaster chuckled at this, eyes glittering with excitement, “Aw c’mon Grillby, this is gonna be fun. And I promise I won’t shatter into a thousand pieces. Not even a hundred!”

Grillby shook his head, doing his best to stifle a crackle of laughter.

“What, still not convinced?” He stuck out a his smallest finger, “Not even if I _pinky_ promise?”

Grillby let out a flurry of sparks, laughing at the absurd, childish glee in Gaster’s voice, “Would you take this seriously?”

Gaster barred his teeth in a grin, making a nonsensical and exaggerated shrug with his arms and shoulders, “Oh live a little firef-”

Grillby had enough time to gasp, blue suddenly clenching around his soul, before he went flying to the side. He let out a muffled screech when he landed, slamming face-first into a soupy mess of mud several feet away from where he’d been standing. It stung, _oh!_ It stung! He wiped it off furiously, his core flaring and drying the mud before the moisture could do more than pester away a few hit points. And then he was swept off his feet again, dragged across the ground and into a hedge of bones that slammed through his torso with enough intent to make his soul shiver. It didn’t hurt of course - he took no damage from it - and as he stumbled to his feet he realized that Gaster had dropped the blue magic finally. Thank heavens for that. But it _was_ eye opening, and a little terrifying. If Grillby were any other monster, that kind of attack would’ve done some serious damage. Dust-worthy damage, even.

Gaster piped up a happy laugh, grinning and signing excitedly, “You can’t be serious! That puddle only took off three of your hitpoints? Man, and that didn’t even scratch the surface, did it?”

Grillby brushed a last bit of drying mud off his arms, “So much for no cheap shots.”

The skeleton shrugged, that grin of his starting to look a little less carefree and a little more dangerous the longer Grillby looked at it.

“I prefer to call it using my environment,” he moved his hands as he spoke, and Grillby gave a jolt when he realized the movements didn’t match his words.

The ground around the elemental’s feet suddenly exploded into life as bone attacks of all shapes and sizes ripped up the earth, slamming into him over and over and threatening to knock him off his feet again. Grillby gave an exasperated huff, a white flame roaring to life around him and crashing down on the attacks, burning them into nothingness in seconds. He kept the flame spinning around him, chewing up all the new attacks Gaster summoned before they could overwhelm him again. And as it worked he sent a jet of flame surging towards the pestering skeleton.

Gaster dodged it deftly, making a show of yawning as he danced out of the way, “ _Wow_ you’re slow.”

He spun out of the way of another, “Heh, you’re slower than Ammy. I didn’t even think that was possible.”

At the third Gaster was laughing again, “Oh lordy, you’re _killing_ me here firefly.”

A fourth, “Figure of speech of course. You’re not even close yet.”

Grillby stifled an annoyed groan. He had never _ever_ fought someone so fast to dodge before. And no matter how much Grillby tried to speed up his attacks, Gaster just danced out of the way. A few if the shaves got closer… Maybe… If you squinted your eyes at the skeleton and _really_ paid attention. And for every snide comment Gaster threw, the crowd gathered around them laughed a little bit harder and sneered a little louder in unison with him. It was infuriating. _Humiliating_ even.

“Hey tinderbox!”

Both Gaster and Grillby paused, looking towards the mentor still waiting on the sidelines. Amathea grinned.

“You're trying to hit a mouse with a bear-sized mallet,” the fish monster quipped, “You need to think smaller.”

“Awww _Ammy!!”_ Gaster groaned, “Don't coach the new guy!”

“And _you_ bonehead!” Amathea snapped, giving Gaster a surprised start, “I see you signing your attacks over there! You are not some far-east monster on the Silk Road! You do not shout your attacks before you make them!”

Gaster let out another long, whining, childish groan, earning him another round of laughter from the steadily growing audience.

“Yes _mom!”_

Meanwhile Grillby was trying to ‘think smaller’. How in the _world_ had Amathea gained the upper hand against such a fast moving target?! It did help that she had that immobilizing magic, but Grillby had no such thing. All he had was his fire. Well… He supposed he could speed up his attacks a bit more by making them smaller. Think small… Think... small…

The ring of fire Grillby was standing amidst flared to a heightened life, yanking Gaster's attention back to the elemental in a heartbeat. Bits and pieces of the core ring broke apart, elongating into wicked looking, white-hot and plasma-like ‘spears’. Of course, they weren't actually spears. They lacked the form that Amathea’s did - really they were just sticks of flame that bristled quite angrily in Gaster’s direction. They felt weightless to Grillby, and maybe if he put just the right power behind them…

The first spear went rocketing off faster than any attack Grillby had conjured so far, exploding against the ground with a shower of searing sparks and debris where Gaster had been standing a second before - so the skeleton could still dodge them. That was annoying. But Grillby did notice he looked a lot less carefree than he had a moment ago.

Armed with this newfound arsenal, Grillby launched forward with his attacks en masse, forming quick volleys of the dangerous things and throwing then at Gaster by the dozen. Suddenly the skeleton was scrambling to keep out the line of fire, his lackadaisical dance of defense turning into a haphazard mix of dives, rolls and staggers towards safety. Of course, some of his work was needless - Grillby’s aim wasn't nearly as good as Amathea’s was and he would've missed on his own quite often. But the flares and debris caused when the molten projectiles hit the cool ground could leach away hit points just as well as any direct hit could, and Gaster took no chances. He didn’t know yet how strong Grillby’s attack was or how powerful his intent.

At some point during one of the volleys, Gaster managed to regain some of his previous composure, adapting to these new attacks and figuring out how to counter. He gave a flourish of his hands - which dragged a condescending shout from Amathea about tying his hands together so he’d stop - and with precision Grillby was both amazed and annoyed with he began meeting the spears in mid-air with spinning bone attacks. The spiraling discs of bone met the spears with small explosions, bursts of fire and bone colliding into a shower of magical debris.

With another flurry of Gaster’s hands he threw forwards three waves of bones, the interlocking and weaving attacks slamming into Grillby with staggering force. Each wave that slammed into him threatened to knock him off his feet, but Grillby somehow managed to stay standing. And then he was bracing himself against the final wave and answering it, sending a wall of fire as wide as their arena hurtling towards the quick-footed skeleton. It banished the impending bone attacks into shatters of residual magic. Threatened to devour the skeleton as well.

Gaster mimicked the attack he’d used during his last fight then, throwing himself into the air and over the wall of flame. A second attack from Grillby met him in the air, one of those angry spears smashing hard into Gaster’s shoulder and sending him tumbling with a surprised shout. He hit the ground rolling, only stopping when he tumbled into Amathea’s unyielding wall of spears. There was a second of horrified silence when Grillby realized he’d actually _hit someone_ oh heavens he hadn’t actually expected to do that. Or at least not that hard! He took a pensive step forward, only to stop when Gaster threw a hand up in the air, fisted into a thumbs-up. The skeleton got to his feet, wincing as he rolled his injured shoulder.

“I’m good!” He called breathlessly as he signed, wincing again when he moved his hands a bit too enthusiastically and jerked his shoulder, “We’re good. Keep going.”

The two of them swung back into motion again, Grillby a bit reluctantly but quickly gaining again in speed and power the more Gaster smirked and jeered at him when he missed - which he did quite often. They were a dance of fire and bone, power matched against speed with ingenuity being the only possible thing to bridge the gap between them. Gaster was fearless and quick on his feet, fully aware of how capable he was of staying well out of Grillby’s way. He stayed smart and refused to close the distance between them - he’d seen how the elemental had torn through Amathea’s attacks with that sword of his, he knew getting close to that thing was a bad idea. And meanwhile Grillby was trying to box the skeleton in, force him into a corner, force his feet to still a little bit.

The elemental threw up another wall of flame, one that stretched across their battlefield and forced Gaster to leap over it to dodge. And when he did Grillby threw forth a small volley of those spears, watching in mild amazement as the skeleton met them with spinning attacks of his own, letting them take the damage for him. As he fell Grillby dashed to meet him, that sword Gaster had been avoiding so well yanking from its scabbard in a fluid motion as he closed the distance between them. Gaster met the first sweeping blow with a bone club he summoned into his hand, staggering back as the sword cleaved effortlessly through it and nearly took his arm with it. The skeleton struggled to remain a step ahead of the sweeping blade, dodging around Grillby in a circle of ducks and pitches.

There was once when the elemental nearly hit him, the tip of his sword coming dreadfully close to Gaster’s collar bone. Grillby prepared to jerk back before it hit, but was cut off when Gaster yanked his soul blue and threw him back. He managed to stay on his feet, stumbling back several steps to regain his balance while Gaster backpedaled in similar fashion. Though Grillby noticed, the skeleton’s was more from the shock of the near miss than a lack of balance. He had a haggard expression on his face, a mix of surprise and something else a little more guarded. And then his hands were moving, signing something that Grillby couldn’t really recognize. The elemental braced himself, ready for more bone attacks to rip up the ground at his feet and throw him off balance again.

Instead, he was met with heavy smell of magic bristling to life, the crackling of inert energy as it amalgamated into something useful and gigantic. A pair of angry jaws opened wide above Gaster’s shoulder, forming together like wet ashes slow and crumbling and cracking. There was the start of a spine, vertebrae linking into place and held loosely by a dull, purplish and sickly magic that seemed to bruise the colors in the air. The eye sockets of the skeletal, half-formed beast blinked into bright life, fixing a deadened stare on the elemental and hissing as the magic inside it began bubbling and building, condensing into something powerful and deadly. Just as it began forming shoulder blades and forearms, just as the ribs started to define themselves amongst the ashen magic they were made of, the skull began to cave and crumble and crack. It was then that it whined and fired a long, white blast.

Grillby took the hit head-on, the magic enveloping him from head to toe. It took his breath away, and his vision. Surrounding him in harsh and void-like white. He could have stopped existing, or maybe existed a little less. And all around him he could _feel_. That uncomfortable feeling of whatever was behind the magic, and it roared around him in that pulsing white in some mess of anguish and bitter and distraught it roared _why_?! It screamed _why like this_?! _Why forever like this?! I’m so tired just let me sleep. I hate it let me sleep. I don’t want. I don’t. I hate it. I hate it all. I just want to sleep! I j..us.t w.a...n..t t.o sl.e..e...p….!.....!!_

The beam blinked out of existence just as the last of the summoned monster crumbled away again, dusting the ground around Gaster with its ashen remains. When it left it found Grillby still standing and unscathed, though his flame was pitched in the washed out white of the blast that had barreled over him. He shook his head, regaining some of his composure and his normal color along with it. Across from him, Gaster seemed to relax a bit with relief and after a pause their attacks resumed.

Now that Gaster knew Grillby wouldn’t… well… he hadn’t really been sure what would happen if he caught Grillby up in that beam. But now that he knew it had the same effect on the elemental as just about every other attack he’d used before, he summoned the beastly things to help him more and more as they danced through their battle. Sometimes he would fire one at a time, others he would throw together two, three, four at once. Grillby took some of the hits and avoided others. They didn’t hurt him; but with each hit he took and each glimpse into the magic he saw, the more the elemental dreaded getting hit again. There was a seething in his soul that twisted against the beastly stuff of it. They unsettled him, and he took great pains to dodge them wherever he could. When another blaster fired in between sweeping bone attacks, Grillby finally hazarded to meet it. It was, on some level, a fire based attack after all. Shouldn’t he be able to…?

He threw forward his own jet of flame, the two attacks colliding in angry roars of fire and magic. They fanned upwards, their forward momentum leaving them no other choice than to splay outwards in a shower of sparks and dying magic. The display brought a few impressed oo’s and ah’s from the on looking monsters, and then renewed cheering for the fight to finish.

When a second beam fired Grillby met it as well, and as the waves of fire magic cascaded apart he jolted through them, leaping through the walls of flame before they had died down completely. Gaster had enough time to blink and frown in surprise as Grillby seemed to magically materialize in the air in front of him. And then they were both on the ground in a tangle of limbs and armor and tunics. Grillby managed to pin the lanky skeleton’s arms to the ground, and in an instant the spar was over. Gaster grinned up at him, laughing quietly to himself at how it had all ended up. Grillby was just glad the skeleton hadn’t managed to dodge.

“Well, isn’t that interesting?” Gaster said past his grin.

“What’s interesting?”

Gaster laughed, “All of that and I’m still not dust.”

Grillby rolled his eyes, moving so the skeleton could get to his feet. Gaster brushed himself off, still chuckling to himself, “You really worry too much.”

“I knocked you out of the sky,” Grillby reminded him as the two of them walked to the edge of their little arena - Amathea was already dropping the spears to let them through.

Gaster waved his hands dismissively, “Oh please. I’ve taken harder hits from a whimsun.”

“ _Sure_ you have,” Grillby crackled a laugh and shoved Gaster playfully in the shoulder. The skeleton laughed back, though he rubbed at the shoulder a bit painfully as they walked. Huh… whimsuns must hit pretty hard then.

“Well done, both of you,” Amathea said with a gracious smile as the pair stopped before her, “I’ll make decent fighters out of you yet. And Grillby, that was quite some adapting you did there. I was worried for a minute that Gaster might exasperate you into quitting.”

“I would’ve worn him out eventually either way,” Grillby said, stubbornly pretending that there weren’t a few times he’d been ready to wring the little skeleton’s neck during all the dodging and jeering he was doing. Gaster beamed, throwing Grillby a mischievous sideways glance but somehow remaining wisely silent.

“ _You_ though,” Amathea poked a finger at Gaster’s chest, “What have I told you about signing your attacks?!”

“Ammy…”

“Don’t you ‘Ammy’ me!” The fish monster cut him off with a vicious glare, “If I can figure out what that hand language of yours is, so can anyone else! Not to mention it’s gotta be your most defining feature.”

Amathea made a show of signing out something as best she could with only one hand to work with, something Grillby couldn’t understand. He would’ve guessed it was gibberish if it weren’t for the way Gaster’s eye sockets widened a bit when she signed it.

“The one who speaks in hands, remember bonehead?” She asked as her arm worked, her voice lowering into something that hinted at a warning, “I’ll break you of that habit if it kills me - for fighting at least.”

Gaster scowled and crossed his arms. He twitched as he said it but he managed to mutter a defeated “yes ma’am” without signing a single syllable. Amathea nodded her approval, gave a short sigh and then let a smile work its way across her face again.

“Oh don’t pout, Gaster, you know I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“Yeah yeah.”

She chuckled at this before shooing the two of them off, “Alright good spar and all that. I’ll give you the evening to rest up while I figure out what we’ll start training with tomorrow.”

Her smile split into a vicious, snarl of a grin, “That’s when the real fun starts.”

With that, Amathea left them, wandering off in the direction of the mess tent and vanishing out of sight. During their talk, most of the crowd of monsters that had been watching the spar had dispersed - much to Grillby’s relief. Those that lingered seemed more intent on collecting bets and whispering to each other than actually approaching the elemental. That was the beginnings of a good evening already. Grillby glanced over at Gaster.

“So…”

The skeleton blinked at him.

“The one who speaks in hands?”

Gaster gave a sigh, one very much lacking in his normal overdramatism. Suddenly he looked very tired, as tired and bitter as the magic in those monsters he’d fired. Grillby did the best to hide his discomfort at that.

“The man who speaks in hands, to be more precise. And I’m fixing that,” he said finally, scowling to himself as he signed out his sentence out of habit, “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Really?” Grillby wished he could raise an eyebrow at the skeleton, but settled on rippling blue instead, “You know, I’ve only been here a year? And yet _every time_ I’m told something like that, I end up having to worry about it eventually.”

“Yeah but you worry about _everything_ ,” Gaster laughed dismissively.

“Reasonable paranoia never hurt anyone,” Grillby said with a matter-of-fact cross of his arms.

“Yeah sure whatever,” the skeleton shrugged, “Stop mothering me, it’s not a problem. Now, I’m going to go eat what’s left of that lovely breakfast you made us and take a well-earned nap. And maybe teach you some more of my weird language, _if_ you decide not to be a nag.”

Grillby suppressed the need to roll his eyes, but followed obediently when Gaster moved to walk back to their campsite. They ate and talked sparingly, mostly about Gaster’s hand-speak and what general motions meant. The skeleton begrudgingly admitted yes he’d been saying every attack as he’d thought them, and yes if Grillby paid close enough attention he’d probably know what was coming and be able to compensate for it - assuming he was fast enough on the uptake and got way better at dodging. Oh yes that’s right, he never really needed to dodge attacks did he? I bet you’re a menace on the actual battlefield huh? Must be pretty cool to be able to absorb attacks like they’re nothing.

By the time Amathea returned, Gaster had fallen asleep in the tent and Grillby was a few sentences more knowledgeable in the skeleton’s language. He signed a hello to Amathea when she approached, and she beamed and gave her best imitation back. It was weird, but Grillby felt a strange sense of camaraderie knowing the three of them might share a language that no one else would know. It seemed childish and sneaky, like a secret code that small monsters would giggle about as they sent messages back and forth to each other, hiding their contents from parents and other prying eyes. It was fun.

“I see Gaster’s learning you a thing or two about his weirdness,” the fish monster laughed, grabbing a seat beside Grillby with a weary sigh. There was a stiffness in her movements, and Grillby rippled a bit with concern.

“You alright?”

Amathea punched him gently in the shoulder, chuckling, “Oh don’t take that worried tone of voice with me. It’s been awhile since I’ve used so much magic in one day is all. I’m tired, but I’m far from being dust.”

Grillby nodded slowly, “Right.”

“You know, you surprised me today, tinderbox,” Amathea smirked, “You took one look at that blaster of Gaster’s and you kept going like it was nothing. I thought it might scare you off.”

“What would give you that idea?”

“Oh please,” the fish monster grinned, “I don’t need any fancy magic to know when someone’s scared out of their own skin. It is so interesting to me that someone so powerful can be so terrified. But then again, I was never scared of much of anything.”

She gave a rueful chuckle, rubbing her bad shoulder, “Which is why I’m Amathea the Brave, not Amathea the Wise.”

There was a pause between them where Amathea closed her eyes and rested a moment and Grillby tried his best not to ask any awkward questions about how she lost her arm. There was a squirming moment in his core where he remembered the feeling in Gaster’s magic, and he cast a gaze back at the tent to make sure the skeleton hadn’t stirred.

“I… did have a question for you,” Grillby said slowly, hushing his voice a bit and dragging a look of tired concern from Amathea, “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Shoot.”

“Well…”

Grillby explained in a quiet voice about being able to feel things in other monsters’ magic. The scattered impressions and emotions behind the intent that made it. He recounted what he’d felt in Amathea’s spears, and the fish monster raised her eyebrows in surprise at it. Then he told her what he’d felt in Gaster’s magic. About how uncomfortable it felt, how consuming it was. How bitter, how cold. And she wasn’t surprised at all. The fish monster rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably for a moment before sighing.

“Gaster… is a much bitterer person than he’d like people to believe,” she said finally, “And the more you get to know him, the more you’re going to realize he’s very dark and very resigned to how he thinks his life is going to go. Now as to why that is, well that’s up to him to tell you. But, I can give you a forewarning.”

Grillby nodded slowly, “...okay.”

“Gaster gets really quiet and really withdrawn when something’s bothering him. Like fullbody distracted quiet. He doesn’t fidget; he doesn’t think out loud with his hands, he just quiets. And he’s going to start having nightmares. Well, more than he normally does.”

“Nightmares?”

The fish monster shrugged, “Yeah, I’ve never really been able to keep him snapped out of those. They just happen. He doesn’t make a fuss. The most I’ve ever seen him do is wake up a little out of breath. He might wake you up leaving the tent at night. It’s normal, and unless he looks really disturbed it’s best not to bother him about it. Most of the time he avoids them by only sleeping a couple hours at a time. Keeps him a bit more tired than I’d like him to be, but if it helps him cope then it’s for the better.”

“So that’s why he naps so much then,” Grillby mused quietly, and Amathea nodded.

“Now you’re catching on,” she flashed him a warm smile, “Don’t worry about him too much. He’s not made of glass and he’s been doing this since long before you were even summoned. But if it will make you more comfortable, I’ll tell him to keep the blasters to a minimum when you guys spar.”

The elemental nodded to her, giving her a quiet ‘thanks’ as she stood and stretched. She patted him reassuringly on the shoulder as she walked away, laughing about a letter she should be getting to writing. Grillby sighed to himself as she left. What a weird trio they were turning out to be, and they’d only been together for a day and a half. Maybe playing the ‘mysterious stranger card’ so early in the game really was a bad idea. Well, one thing he knew for sure: whenever Gaster spilled his guts about every weird thing he had going on, it was sure to make life that much more interesting.


	11. Daily life is a little mundane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Amathea does her darndest to train everyone to death, and Gaster complains about it.

The next day dawned on them bright and ferocious and filled with the sound of Amathea’s voice. Her loud, shouting, insult-laden voice. She made good on the promise she’d made to Grillby on the first day they’d met and she started them running. Laps around the camp, down a handful of hunting paths in the woods, anywhere and everywhere she thought they could go before the sun got low enough for the mess tent to serve food. And the entire time, Grillby felt discouragingly outclassed. 

Of course, he’d figured Gaster would be a better runner than he was. From the way the monster dodged it was easy to tell he had agility and speed that Grillby couldn’t touch. While Gaster grumbled and complained the entire time Amathea coached him onward, the elemental noticed that he was always one step ahead of everyone. He never tripped or stumbled on any hindrances in their path, never ran into an unwary monster that stepped in their way, and never once did he fall behind. He wasn’t exactly graceful, but he carried himself like someone who knew what he was doing and had a lackadaisical confidence in every stride.

Then there was Amathea, who ran with them and with a loyalty and conviction Grillby admired, refusing to let the two of them do anything she couldn’t or wouldn’t do. No wonder she had been heralded as such a great commander when she still had a unit at her disposal! Every path she took them down was reasonably dry and lacked any large hazards for the fire elemental as he ran - something she had to have staked out ahead of time. She set a pace for them that was fair, constantly checking with Gaster to make sure he was awake enough not to run head-on into a tree. The entire run was peppered with her shouts of encouragement mingled with several insults that Grillby had never heard before, and that Gaster mostly rolled his eyes at. Synonyms for ‘lazy’ were being added to the elemental’s vocabulary by the dozen.

And then there was Grillby, the elemental who had never really been trained this way because nobody really figured he’d be running from anything aside from the occasional scramble for cover during a rainstorm. The elemental who didn’t really have a physical body to upkeep, so no one really figured running would be an exercise he would need.

Grillby felt like a woshua with four left feet. He tripped, he stumbled, he struggled to keep up. His biggest enemies seemed to be his feet and whatever ground he touched. He was lucky he didn’t run into anyone. And he was quickly finding he didn’t like running. It made him tired. The kind of core shuddering, light-dimming tired that using too much magic did to him. He frequently found himself dimming and would have to take a conscious moment to stoke himself back up again. And after the third lap around the camp Grillby found himself struggling to maintain a stable form. He could feel himself rippling, like his core didn’t want to hold him together anymore and was going to ooze apart. It made him feel gross and uncomfortable and he grimaced through the whole thing.

Oh the sigh of relief he gave when Amathea called them to a stop and let them have breakfast! A short breakfast. A hurry-up-and-eat-we-have-work-to-do breakfast. Grillby hardly had enough time to pull himself together before they were off again. Their next activity of the day was a little less strenuous and a little more enjoyable, and mostly for Grillby’s benefit since it was all something Gaster had already heard before.

Amathea was teaching Grillby strategy. The three of them sat in a circle around the fire at their little campsite - Gaster trying his darnedest not to fall asleep while Amathea talked - and the fish monster coached them through the key attacks she thought they should know. 

“There are four types of attacks I want you to be able to use,” Amathea explained, her magic weaving into life and the pressure of it hanging about her shoulders in a soft miasma. It was ready to spring into life for a demonstration should she call on it, “And while I’m with you I’m going to make sure you at least get the basics of them. So pay attention!”

Grillby watched as a hoard of spears formed behind the fish monster, piling together above her in a bristling display.

“The first one is ‘the hammer’, as I like to call it,” she continued, “Hammer attacks are big and heavy and powerful. You’re trying to drag as much hp out of your target as you can manage in a single blow. You, my dear little tinderbox, are a giant, never ending hammer. You’ve been taught to hit hard and keep hitting hard until whatever you’re hitting is too bent out of shape to function anymore. Good technique for someone who doesn’t have to worry about being hit back, I’ll admit. But when you’re fighting silly dodging things like Gaster? Yeah not so much.”

The skeleton gave a tired grin at this, side-eyeing Grillby mischievously. Amathea dispelled the barrage she’d summoned and focused her magic instead on a single spear that glowed bright green. 

“Second type is ‘the spear’. Spear attacks are far-reaching and aimed for a single weak point, like a long spear or a pole-axe is used against armored knights. You’re not trying to beat anything into submission. You’re trying to stab at the gaps in the armor before they can hit you. Those exploding sticks of yours yesterday were a good example,” Amathea rolled her eyes, “A little  _ crude _ , but they function just as good as any of mine I guess.”

Grillby wasn’t sure if he should take that as a compliment or not. 

“Third is ‘the sword’. You’re wanting something fast and stabby that you can use over and over again. Everything Gaster ever does is a sword attack,” she paused, grimaced and then amended, “Minus the blasters. They’re probably hammers.  _ Anyway _ , sword attacks tend to be more useful at short range, unless you’re like this bonehead here and can dodge and throw things at the same time.”

“Aw,” Gaster barred his teeth at her in a grin, “I’m sensing some jealousy.”

“It’s cheating is what it is,” Amathea grumbled past a rueful smile, “Cutting off my attacks like that. It’s annoying.”

She rolled her eyes and with a smile finally finished, “The fourth is pretty obvious. Defense. We’ll call it ‘the shield’. That’s my green attacks and probably Gaster’s blue ones as well. And that’s your core, tinderbox. Your whole body is a defense mechanism. You absorb attacks and eat up magic and… really anything if you put your mind to it.”

Amathea gave a wry smile, “I watched a fire elemental like yourself devour a whole forest and turn and use it to make a whirlwind of fire from sea to sky. Pretty damn impressive.”

Grillby grimaced. Sure it was impressive - Grillby could never pull off something like that on his own - but it was also probably messy and gross and wearying as well. He’d never eaten anything other than monster food, and hoped he stayed that way.

“So,” the fish monster’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “Now that you know a basic gist, we’re going to put it to use. Hands-on learning is my specialty.”

Amathea grinned at this and stood, ushering for her two charges to follow. She paused them a safe distance away from their tent, aimed them at some trees and barked at them to start attacking. She drilled them - another thing Grillby wasn’t used to. He’d been drilled in marching before, but never in fighting. It was different, interesting and tiring. She stood by and would call out an attack type - spear, sword, spear, word, hammer, hammer, shield! And for each attack she called they responded with a similar attack. Gaster of course knew what he was doing, and threw his attacks around with nonchalant ease. Grillby, on the other hand, earned himself several shouts from Amathea before their time drilling was up.

You call that a spear?! No think smaller,  _ faster _ tinderbox! I called sword!  _ Sword!!  _ And just how is that shield supposed to protect you? Good, now make the wall bigger. Yes, bigger. You can do it, tinderbox -  _ Gaster stop signing your attacks!! _

And so the day went until the afternoon when both Gaster and Grillby were fatigued and shuttering and hungry for lunch and anything to replenish all the magic they’d spent. Grillby did notice that as the day progressed that despite Gaster’s lack of any real rest, let alone an actual nap, the skeleton seemed to wake up more and more. He laughed, he joked. He elbowed the elemental and whispered ridiculous comments about Amathea being some sea witch cursed to wander the land, beating people up and forcing good-for-nothings like himself and Grillby to work much harder than they had to. At which the fish monster slapped him none-too-gently on the back of the head and retorted something about Gaster being a plague of a nuisance himself - though there was a grin in her voice as she said it.

There was little rest for them in the evening either. Amathea gave them an hour to sit and remember what not being in a constant state of motion felt like. Gave them a bit to catch their breath and for Grillby to begrudgingly tell himself that yes he could do this and no he wasn’t going to fall into a molten soup if he stood up again. And of course Gaster tried and failed at getting some sleep in. Then Amathea was up again with that stamina that seemed to be never ending and that voice that never wavered even for a moment.

“Alright tinderbox,” she harumphed as she paced beside where the elemental sat, “You’re pretty handy with that swordwork of yours, right?”

“... handy enough,” came his weary reply.

“Handy enough to give Gaster a few lessons?”

This dragged a long groan from the skeleton, who was lying facedown in the grass just a few steps away from where Grillby sat. He clasped his hands behind his head and nuzzled his face a little harder into the ground, as if he could somehow dispel whatever nightmare reality was becoming for him at the edge of Amathea’s statement.

“No Ammy, we’re not teaching the skeleton to do a sword thing,” he said with a muffled grumble into the grass.

“Yes, Ammy, we’re teaching the skeleton to do a sword thing,” Amathea parroted to him, giving his side a soft nudge with the toe of her boot, “What happens if you ever meet a human mage, huh? You think they’ll give a damn about your fancy magic?”

Gaster managed to give her a sideways glare out of his broken eye, the rest of his face still hidden behind his bony arms, “If a human mage gets involved that’s when  _ this _ skeleton runs for cover. Same with the angry fish, if she’s learned anything from last time.”

This time the nudge she gave him was a lot less like a nudge and a lot more like a kick.

“ _ Ow!  _ Hey, I have a point and you know it,” the skeleton scowled up at her as he dragged himself to his feet - if for no other reason than to stay out of the range of that angry boot, “Mages are boss monster problems. Little guys like us don’t stand a chance against big magic using humans. We’re dust in ten seconds flat. Learning a sword thing won’t help that at all.”

“So says about the only non-boss monster who could actually  _ take on  _ a mage,” Amathea prompted, raising an eyebrow skeptically, “They wouldn’t be able to land a hit on you. And besides, being able to counterattack with something physical might serve you well someday. All your attacks crumble after one hit, after all. You’re learning it.”

Grillby interjected just as Gaster opened his mouth to speak, “Woah woah, wait a second!”

He crackled nervously after he’d gotten their attention, clearing his throat to try and sound a little less anxious than he felt, “I’ve only been learning swordcraft for a year. I’m hardly qualified to be teaching anyone anything.”

Amathea laughed at this, surprising Gaster and Grillby both. She flashed Grillby a grin, her eyes sparkling knowingly.

“Tell me something tinderbox,” she mused, “Why did you choose to take up a sword instead of - say - a warhammer, like Gerson? Or a battle axe or spear or polearm or whatever else you could have chosen to arm yourself with.”

Grillby paused, his flame coloring through thoughtful greens and subtle blues, “I… don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

Grillby blinked at her confusedly, “I just wanted it.”

“Aye ya did,” she chuckled, “And didn’t it just fit your hand like a glove? Didn’t you learn so much faster than the others training with ya? But then, isn’t that just the funny way with elementals? Always terribly good at something special with no real reason why.”

Grillby… had nothing to say to that. Amathea gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Trust me, tinderbox, you’re more than qualified. Whether you know it or not,” she hummed reassuringly before urging them off, “Now go on. Get teaching. I’ll be back  before the sun dips over the treeline.”

“And just where are  _ you  _ going, oh cryptic leader?” Gaster asked condescendingly.

Amathea made a show of a shrug as she walked off, calling back to him coyly, “I’m a commander aren’t I? I’ve got things I have to attend to.”

Gaster let out a pitiful whine and yelled after her, “Like  _ what _ ? Your  _ entire unit _ is standing  _ right here _ !”

Her only reply was a quip of a laugh barked over her shoulder as she disappeared into the rest of the camp. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! Okay! Sorry if this chapter seems a bit like filler (I mean, it kinda is. I have to get us from point A to point B). This is actually me just establishing a few things. And poking at a few others. 8D
> 
> This chapter was also kind of difficult since, according to my research, warriors didn't do too much in the camps aside from beating each other up all day. Granted, it was the training kind of beating each other up and not the hot headed brawling kind, but still. Mostly warriors just sat around waiting to be ordered around while slaves and women did the work of keeping the camp clean and disinfected and cooking and so on and so forth. 
> 
> Fun fact: In Viking camps where women weren't present, there was always a rise in death toll among the men waiting to go into battle, namely from disease and cleanliness issues. Who knew right?
> 
> Okay! But now to something a bit more important! I've decided to get on a weekly posting schedule, which will hopefully be bumped up to biweekly as soon as my college semester is over. Finals man. I hate 'em. Anyway, I've decided on a temporary day "Friday", for posting. Do any of you guys have a preferred day? If so feel free to tell me! And we'll cross the biweekly bridge if and when we get to it.


	12. Remember to stab the guy with the pointy end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn some stuff  
> And everyone talks a lot

It took a bit of awkward scrambling and asking around, but eventually Grillby found what he needed for attempting to teach Gaster how to sword fight. It mostly consisted of finding some training blades and a dummy willing enough to let a novice smack at them for a few weeks. Grillby stood by and waited while Gaster went through every type of sword he’d brought, shaking his head at every single one and bemoaning how fruitless of an effort it was to try and teach him how to swordfight. He’d picked through his selection twice before finally shrugging uselessly.

“This isn’t going to work, firefly,” he muttered, “All of these practically weigh more than I do! I can’t swing these around.”

Grillby gave a crackle of a laugh, shaking his head, “If you can drag me around with that blue magic of yours, you can pick up a sword. They’re not that heavy.”

“Still can’t swing one around,” Gaster pointed out stubbornly. This earned him an eye roll from the fire elemental.

“If you don’t pick one, I’ll pick one for you,” he said finally, wrenching another moan from the defeated skeleton and sending him shambling back over to the swords again. After dragging his feet for a few more minutes, he picked up a one-handed sword and flipped it over in his hands meekly.

“It’s really dull,” he commented pessimistically, to which Grillby shrugged.

“It’s just a training blade. If you take to it, we’ll get you a real one sometime.”

There was a pause where Gaster tested the sword a bit, swooping it around in the air haphazardly in some mock show of what he’d seen other monsters do. Grillby did his best not to cringe. _Ho boy_ this was going to take a lot of work, he could tell already. Finally Gaster seemed to decide this was as a good match of a blade for him as he was going to get and waited for Grillby to give him some instruction.

Which he tried to do. As best he could. Given he’d never _ever_ taught any monster anything about sword fighting before in his life. Or really, anything about anything for that matter. He started by showing Gaster how to actually hold the sword properly, pulling his own out of his inventory to demonstrate. He explained that what Gaster had was a simple arming sword, weighting enough to help give heavy swings while still small enough to be relatively easy to maneuver and carry. The only catch? They were short, dangerously short. Especially for a monster so used to an aloof and long-range type of combat. This Gaster took with a grain of salt. He was already going to be uncomfortably close to someone swinging a sharp object at his body, might as well get used to being _way too close_.

Grillby on the other hand bore a longsword. The blade itself was nearly one and half times longer than the blade on the sword Gaster had chosen, the grip longer as well to make room for strong two-handed strokes - though with how strong Grillby was when his fire was devouring a battlefield and a rush was going through him, he often switched to single-handed techniques that shouldn’t regularly be possible. It was the fortunate thing about having a body that depended wholly on magic, instead of much in the way of the physical.

Grillby quickly stepped Gaster through the parts of his sword - yes you stab things with the pointy end. The edge is used for deflecting, but for heaven’s sakes don’t catch a hit near the end of your point unless you want to break the darn thing! And yes, that _does_ happen. The guard is not just to protect your hand you dingus, you can deflect blades with that.

When he figured the skeleton knew how _not_ to stab himself, he placed his own sword back into his inventory and picked up one of the remaining arming swords that Gaster had dismissed - a short sword that was just a small bit longer than the one Gaster had picked. He frowned at the unfamiliar weight of it - it was light, _much_ lighter and shorter than he was used to.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to start swinging that at my face already,” Gaster whined, and Grillby crackled in a laugh.

“Maybe if I wanted to dust you,” he said with a flicker and a smile in his voice, “I’m just going to teach you some drills. That’s how they taught me at first. You’ll love ‘em.”

“If they’re anything like Ammy’s drills, then I think we’ll have to agree to disagree,” Gaster groaned.

“Oh lighten up,” Grillby caught himself about to give Gaster a pat on the shoulder, and stopped, remembering to be self-conscious. There was an awkward pause where he didn’t know what to do with his hand before mimicking an exaggerated shrug, “You can uh… teach me some more of your hand-speak when we’re done. Sound like a fair trade?”

The best answer he got out of the skeleton was a grumble.

So Grillby stepped him through some drill. Literally, stepped him through it. He showed him how to move his wrist for different cutting strokes. How to step and move his feet. And when he’d taught Gaster a handful of them, he practiced the set with him, moving through steps and slashes and jabs over and over again. It was a mind numbing task for Grillby, and normally he would just let his body sink naturally through the motions. Relax into them and lose himself to the familiar, mindless motions. But he had Gaster to attend to, and he was constantly slowing down and showing the skeleton monster different things. Re-teaching him how to move his wrist or his foot when he slid just a little off.

And Gaster did what the skeleton did best - asked questions. Why do I hold my wrist this way? Why step forward with my left foot? This doesn’t feel natural, what’s wrong with it? Where does my other foot go again? Do you move your arm and your foot forward at the same time?

Grillby was surprised at how he could answer them all, and answer them well enough for the skeleton to understand. And Gaster learned surprisingly fast. Not as fast as Grillby had when he’d been taught - the elemental had barely so much as blinked at what he was shown and was mirroring it perfectly. But within the first dozen or so moves through the sets, Gaster was very nearly fixing his own slips and mistakes. Those curious eyes that took in everything studied every inch of Grillby as he acted out the motions and then translated them back to his own limbs when he moved.

Grillby didn’t know how long they worked before Gaster was inevitably back to griping and complaining about tiring out. Before his swings got just sloppy enough to permit him a pause. Gaster took the break gratefully, resting on his short sword as if it were a cane and making Grillby cringe as he did so. He flashed the elemental a tired smile.

“Confidence looks good on you, by the way,” Gaster said with a nonchalant wave of his hand, bursting out into laughter at the sudden flustered crackles and ripples the comment dragged from Grillby, “Well _that_ didn’t last long.”

He waved his hands in rapid motions at the bewildered elemental, talking quickly past a broad grin as he tried to calm him down.

“Your color, firefly, your _color_ ,” the skeleton laughed, emphasizing his words with his decisive hand movements, “You go all kinds of colors when you know what you’re doing. It looks cool. That’s what I meant.”

He chuckled, “Stop flashing at me like I just invaded your personal space.”

“Oh,” was about all Grillby could find to reply with. Whatever color he had been, it was already replaced with a fever pitch of flustered yellow and orange. It suddenly struck Grillby that… he wasn’t actually sure what color he was when he was… confident. The only time his body felt that natural to him was when he was lost in something, his mind elsewhere and focused on something more important. He hesitated a second before asking, hiding as much of his awkwardness as he possibly could.

“Uh what… what color was it, exactly?” Grillby muttered, “I didn’t realize I was… I wasn’t normal…?”

Gaster blinked at him incredulously, obviously confused.

“You’re kidding,” he said finally, the ridge above his unbroken eye going down in a concerned frown, “Do you have absolutely _no_ self confidence at _all?_ ”

“Oh hush,” Grillby tutted out an indignant puff of smoke, “I just wasn’t paying attention.”

“You’ve _never_ paid attention, though?” Gaster was laughing again now, going from confused to amused in seconds, “You do know you change color _all the the time_ right?”

Grillby crossed his arms, body flickering in a defensive scowl. Oh he never should have even asked, should he?

“Oh forget it.”

Gaster shook his head, his chuckling dying off into a patient smile at the elemental, his hands moving a few times in apologetic motions before he spoke again, “Alright alright, calm down, I was joking. And you weren’t _a_ color. You were _every_ color.”

Grillby blinked, “... Seriously?”

“Yep,” Gaster grinned, “Purple, blue, green, orange, yellow… just about every color I’ve ever seen a fire magic monster use. It was cool - er - awesome. Fire can’t be cool. _Anyway_ , it started sometime while you were going through the sets.”

Gaster tapped the center of his own chest, “It looked like it bloomed outwards from here. Since it kinda rippled down your arms and up your face. Is that - you know - where your fire comes from? In your chest?”

Grillby shifted on his feet uncomfortably, suddenly _much_ more self-conscious than before. Gaster really paid much more attention to things than Grillby gave him credit for.

“My... core?” he said carefully.

“Is that what you call it?” and there came that sparkling curiosity that seemed to take over Gaster’s entire body, “Is that your soul?”

Grillby shook his head, hesitantly explaining, “My core and my soul are different. Though, I suppose they probably rely on each other. Uhm… if my core goes out my soul will shatter. It’s… I guess it’s what keeps me lit?”

Gaster was leaning forward slightly as he listened, drawing in every word of Grillby’s as if it was air he could breathe. Grillby stifled the urge to take an uncomfortable step back.

“How does it work?”

To this, Grillby could only shrug helplessly, “How does any magic work? It just does. I do know it takes a lot of energy to sustain. That’s why I eat so much more at meals than the rest of you.”

He paused and added, “And when I get tired it doesn’t like to hold it’s shape anymore. Like -” he sighed, finding it hard to explain, “- like I can feel it has a shape.”

Grillby cupped his hands in a circular shape, as if he were wrapping his hands around a large bowl and getting ready to drink.

“And it’s holding itself together. It’s heavy and dense and packed together and contained. And when I’m tired it gets weak and wobbly and starts to spread apart.”

He spread his hands apart as he explained, trying to at least _show_ how it felt even if he couldn’t explain it well, “The further apart it gets the harder it is to… well, stay like this.”

Grillby ushered a hand to himself, “I feel like I’m going to just drip apart. It’s gross and uncomfortable. I… don’t imagine there’s an equivalent I could relate to you. But I guess it’s a bit like a melting feeling. Like I’m suddenly made of honey or something, instead of fire.”

Gaster looked like he’d just had explained to him some obscure wonder of the world, as awe-struck and attentive as he was when Grillby spoke. In spite of how uncomfortable he felt, Grillby couldn’t help but smile tiredly at it.

“We’re not going to get any more sword training in now, are we?”

“Depends,” Gaster answered, his entire a body a grin and his hands signing rapidly, “Can we drill _and_ talk? Because I _need_ to talk about this.”

Grillby shook his head, smirking and sighing in defeat, “We’re cleaning up first though.”

Gaster let out an excited whoop and was off in a flurry, those ethereal hands of his flashing about to gather the discarded swords and help Grillby drop them back off in the hands they belonged to. The skeleton was a jittering mess of excited and impatient, but ultimately managed to stave off his flood of questions until after they were sat back at their tent.

“So you have to hold yourself together?” Gaster asked brightly as he grabbed a seat around their campfire. Grillby busied himself with lighting it - and wondering faintly whether he should cook something for when Amathea got back.

“Not really,” he said with a shrug, “I mean, not in the way you’re thinking. Once I’ve picked a form, for the most part I say there. But I’m not as solid as you are, and if I decide to I can make myself look differently. It has to be a conscious decision though, like deciding to run instead of walk.”

Grillby frowned to himself. Did that even make sense? No, that made absolutely no sense. Well, at least Gaster seemed to get it anyway. He was already signing excitedly and spitting out another question.

“So you can make yourself look different? Can you do that _now_?”

This dragged a short laugh from Grillby, “ _No_. Well, I could if I wanted to. But I wouldn’t fit into my clothes anymore.”

“Have you always looked like this?”

He shrugged, “When I was summoned I was smaller. More compact. But with all the magic and energy they insisted on keeping me fed with, that turned out to be too uncomfortable to stay as small as I was. I’ve shared the field with a few other elementals though, and they seemed to prefer something larger than me even, more intimidating.”

“How big _could_ you be?”

This, Grillby didn’t really have an answer to. He’d never really _tried_ to be anything bigger, though he was sure he could be. Pretty sure anyway. Mostly sure. Hmm…

“No idea,” he settled on finally, “I’ve never tried.”

He shook his head, cutting Gaster off just as the skeleton opened his mouth, “And I have no desire to find out. Not right now anyway.”

“Oh,” this threw the skeleton into silence for a moment, whatever train of thought he’d been going down derailing for a moment. Though Grillby could tell he was by no means finished - just fishing for a different question. Grillby took advantage of the pause to get some dinner cooking - throwing in what remained of what Gaster had caught when Amathea sent him out the day before.

“Okay how about this,” Gaster finally said while Grillby cooked, “Does your magic come from your core? Or does it come from your soul?”

The elemental tilted his head at Gaster, and the skeleton explained.

“Right so normal monster magic is rendered from the soul right? For me anyway, especially when I use my strongest magic, I can feel a tug,” Gaster tapped the center of his chest where Grillby assumed the monster’s soul normally sat, “So we know our magic comes from here. And then our physical bodies surround it. For monsters like me it’s just bone. Monsters like Amathea have scales and organs and all that goopy stuff. But it’s still just the shell around the soul.”

“Okay,” Grillby hummed.

“So for you, is your soul just your life then?” Gaster asked, “And your magic, does it come from your core instead?”

Grillby shook his head, “No, my magic definitely comes from my soul.”

He shrugged, “I guess my core is just the shell, like your body is. Probably.”

The elemental gave a nervous, crackling laugh, “I’ve… not thought about it much.”

Grillby dropped his gaze down to his hands, as if he could find the answer there somewhere. What even _was_ he? He knew that whenever his fire was put out in a place, his body didn’t just disappear. Not completely. It hurt, there was something physical there beneath the flame that was there just enough to _feel_ even if it wasn’t enough to take damage when he was hit by something like a sword or an arrow. Or magic. He was solid enough for someone to touch his shoulder without their hand just sinking into him. Solid enough to wear clothes, to pick up objects. After all, if he were incorporeal he’d just be a ghost, wouldn’t he?

“I don’t know,” he said finally, “I’ve always just… _been_ , you know? I don’t really ask _how_.”

Gaster was smiling thoughtfully, “You know, you’ve gone through your entire life with monsters telling you you’re so drastically different from the rest of us.”

Grillby nodded.

“Why didn’t you ever ask about it?”

“Well I wondered to myself,” Grillby murmured, shifting uncomfortably as he spoke, “But at the end of the day I just… well… it didn’t really matter to me enough. I knew what I needed to do, and what I had to do. I didn’t need to know why I could do it, or how it affected me.”

Gaster chuckled, “You’re a much more accepting monster than I’ll ever be. I mean, think about it, firefly. You were dumped into this world at the whim of someone else and immediately told to fight. Not just fight - to _kill_ \- in the name of whatever their cause was. Would you have just followed along if it were humans summoning you to fight _us_? If you were crossing swords with Ammy or me? Or… your friend… Gerson, right?”

Grillby felt himself start to sputter, his flame flickering a little more erratically and his core - not his soul - tensing and squirming around inside him uncomfortably. He felt sick. And worried. And… just a tiny bit angry as well, if he were completely honest.

“But _I’m_ a monster,” Grillby offered a bit lamely, and Gaster shrugged.

“Some monsters would argue you’re not,” he pointed out, and Grillby flinched at it, “Some think you’re something different, apart from humans and monsters both. I mean, you aren’t born. Not like the rest of us are. You don’t feel pain or tire the same way. Some of you don’t have to eat, depending on the type. It’s a convincing argument to make.”

“It _felt_ fine,” Grillby scowled, gulping down his rising temperature and exasperation, “The monsters who summoned me asked me to help. They could’ve bound me with a pact or with runes and made me help without asking permission, but they didn’t. They told me what I was getting into before they asked me to help. And they didn’t dispel me when they saw how small I was when I was summoned and go fishing around for something more powerful. It felt fine, there was no reason for me to-”

Grillby abruptly stopped when he realized Gaster was signing frenetically at him.

“I… what?”

“Back up a bit there,” the skeleton frowned at him, “There’s magic out there like that?”

Grillby blinked at him.

“Pacts and runes to force you to do something. There’s magic like that? That’s a thing?”

“Uh…Yes?”

The look of confused concern that had woven itself across Gaster’s face was suddenly replaced by something much more intense and angry. Grillby let out a flustered crackle, his fire flickering quickly through yellows and whites as he scrambled to figure out something to say.

“I mean… it’s nothing that’s been used here,” he explained as quickly as he was able, “But it exists. It happens to summoned creatures a lot actually. They have to make a pact before they’re dispelled and… sent back to wherever they came from, I guess? It’s not _common_ magic. But… it happens. It’s mostly when humans want to make sure the creature they’ve called up won’t kill them I think, or when something is summoned that’s old and filled with a lot of bad intent. But regardless, the monsters here could’ve used it on me when I came here and they didn’t. It’s good proof that, at the very least, they don’t bear me any ill will. I can’t say the same for most humans.”

There was a silence that passed between them then where Gaster stared at the fire and Grillby tended to the food that was cooking - and trying very hard not to be self conscious as he did so. He really hadn’t expected the conversation to take the turn that it did.

“How did you know?” Gaster asked finally, and Grillby looked up at him confusedly.

“Know what?”

“If no one has ever used magic like that against you, how did you know it even existed?”

There was a long pause where Grillby rolled that question around in his memory and came up short of an answer. Finally he shrugged and turned back to his cooking.

“I just know,” he answered as matter-of-factly as he could manage, and Gaster seemed content enough with that answer. Or rather, content enough that he’d get no better answer out of the elemental for now. There was still a suspicious glint in his eye though, and a thoughtful frown that didn’t look like it would move from his face unless someone gave it a reason to. Well… Grillby could at least try and lighten the sour mood up a bit.

“So…” the elemental broke the awkward pause, “What are you thinking?”

He took a breath, trying to mimic the theatrical pauses Gaster did when he ever asked that ridiculous question, “... right now?”

Gaster flashed Grillby a grim smile, “I’m thinking you’re not telling me everything. But… I’m not gonna press.”

His smile got a little bigger, “Even though you just gave me at least a dozen more questions to ask.”

The skeleton shook his head, “But I owe you a signing lesson right? So let’s do that instead.”

Grillby sighed gratefully and nodded, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

They let the rest of their evening lapse into a mix of cooking and teaching. Grillby struggled through learning a couple more phrases of Gaster’s speech and learning to recognize a few of the more general motions. And how to tell the pauses between words apart - that seemed to be the most important thing Grillby needed to get a handle on. Right now, everything that Gaster signed, aside from a few key motions, just looked like a mess of purposeful flails. If he could just tell them apart, where one stopped and another started, it’d be a little easier.

True to her word, Amathea returned before the sun had managed to dip below the trees - but only just barely. She looked tired. The kind of mentally drained tired one got when they’d had to be apart of something unpleasant. But she perked up quickly over the food Grillby had made for them.

Of course, Gaster asked why she looked so grim. And she gave a tired response riddled with statistics and field movements that Grillby found hard to follow. But he caught the general gist at least - the humans were pushing in and monsters were falling back, and the commanders here were talking about who was being deployed where and when. Brigg’s unit, the unit they were conjoined with, was being held at this camp for the immediate future while the human mages were off the main battlefield. As soon as they were spotted again though… Amathea had given Grillby a meaningful look, and the elemental had nodded, understanding. After all, they were what he’d been summoned to deal with. Thinking about it made Grillby feel antsy, like the skin he didn’t have was crawling. Ever since the autumn rains had started, he’d been stuck here in the camp. It was slow and lethargic and boring. Safe, but the condemning kind. The kind that said he should be out helping.

He hoped the rain stayed away for him to be of some use, at least for a little while.


	13. WHOOPS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone gets their butt kicked.  
> We're just not entirely sure who.

There was a routine they settled into, a schedule for the days that helped spend their time productively - in preparation for whenever they weren’t in the safety of camp any longer and would have to pull their weight in the war effort. They started every morning with a run, Grillby grimacing and sighing the entire way as he attempted to hold himself together correctly. He hoped it would get a little easier as he got used to it, got into the motion of things and actually learned how to run properly, but for now it was just a nuisance trying to keep up.

Then Amathea would drill them in those particular techniques of hers, Grillby experimenting with the way he could throw his magic around more and more with every passing lesson. This part of his day was probably the part he enjoyed the most, when he got to experiment and try new things. It was the part of the day that Amathea tended to give him the most praise as well, lighting up at the thought of this brute of a monster learning how to conduct himself with strategy and subtly. Though Grillby was still rather well aware that most of the attacks he did were what she considered hammers. He was… still working on that. Stemming the flow of his magic and shaping it into something meticulous and useful was a task he was still getting the hang of.

Finally, in the evenings when Amathea left to meet with the other commanders of the camp and Gaster and Grillby were left to their own devices, the two of them would run through sword work. Gaster learned well, and learned fast. He was no swordmaster, heaven’s no! He was far from learning all there was to learn about different drills and techniques and flourishes that could be helpful when your opponent slipped. But all he was taught he absorbed like a sponge, and he was getting stronger. Though he might not have noticed it himself, Grillby noticed how the skeleton would go a little bit longer every day without complaining about how his arms felt numb and he wanted to quit.

And then in the final hours of the day, they were given their individual tastes of freedom. Sometimes Gaster would nap, sometimes he’d disappear into the mess of a camp for a few hours and do some trading or some drinking or… well whatever else a skeleton could do. Or he and Grillby would sit and work on the speaking in hands together. The elemental was learning pretty quickly that he had no natural talent when it came to learning new languages. It was interesting for sure, but the more he learned, the harder it was for him to retain things it seemed. He found himself asking the same questions over and over, it was disheartening.

Some days, just to switch up the routine and put what they were practicing to use, they would spar instead of drill. Sometimes in magic, sometimes in swords.

Grillby was still finding Gaster a maddeningly hard target to pin down, though he could keep up better now that he was using smaller and faster magical attacks. He was learning ways of combining his waves of fire with smaller, shorter bursts. He was learning how to attack and dodge at the same time. He was learning how to cope with an enemy that fought back for more than a handful of seconds against his brute force. It was a challenge, one he hadn’t had in awhile - possibly his whole life - and he found himself excited to try the things he learned during their spars. It was relieving to know what he was learning could actually be used, and used well.

The sword spars however were starkly different. After all, the entire point of sword fighting wasn’t to hold your opponent for a long period of time. Even for the average monster, it was well known that the shorter the swordfight the better. The goal was to end the fight in seconds if possible. The longer a fight dragged on, the easier it was to lose.

Gaster’s main problem, Grillby was finding, was in how light the skeleton hit. Grillby had crossed swords with monsters and humans alike - the former much more than the latter, for obvious reasons - and never had he run into a monster with such a light touch as Gaster. He supposed it was to be expected on some level. Gaster was a skeleton, he didn’t have much weight to throw behind his strikes. For Grillby, it was like trying to spar with a child. Deflecting Gaster’s attacks was the work of a flick of his wrist, disarming him was only a matter of knocking him around enough to throw him off balance. The only thing that helped the monster was that he was fleet-footed, and once confident in what he was doing his attacks were fast as well. It was a struggle with the unfamiliar weight of the sword, but Gaster was capable of flourishes and combinations of attacks that Grillby would be hard pressed to execute himself. The skeleton was good at strategy - a trait that had likely rubbed off on him from Amathea - and was constantly trying to find ways around Grillby’s impenetrable defence.

On days when Gaster was especially exasperated with how his work had gone, he would pin Amathea down when she got back from her meetings and spar with her as well. Just to get a fresh partner and a fresh look at how his attacks could work. Of course, he was thrown off a bit by the challenge of his short-reaching weapon against Amathea’s spear. The first few times the two had practiced, Gaster had nearly given up in exasperation.

Grillby was glad the skeleton decided to keep trying.

There was something else that the elemental was figuring out the more they spent time together. Something he was noticing about himself. Grillby was happy. Not that he had been miserable while working with Gerson. There was a fondness there for the turtle monster that Grillby would probably never lose, and the elemental found himself missing the monster’s sarcastic laughs and playful jabs at him over his nerves, missing just how warm and friendly he was to have around. But at the same time, Grillby’s heart and soul went out to these two monsters that he’d practically tumbled headfirst into. It went out to them in a way he hadn’t expected in monsters he’d known for such a short period of time.

There was an acceptance he found in them that he didn’t remember feeling anywhere else. Even Gerson had been intimidated by Grillby’s presence a time or two, tiptoed or cautioned around him, unsure of what the elemental would do when he was emotional or upset. Gaster and Amathea though? They joked and laughed with him as if he were a perfectly normal, non-elemental kind of a monster. When he was petulant they treated him the same way they would treat each other. When he was angry, they worked with him instead of balking. When he was nervous, they reminded him he had nothing to be afraid of.

Gaster’s pestering questions got annoying quickly sure, and he still had a thing or two to learn about personal space and announcing his presence in a way that wouldn’t scare the daylights out of the elemental. And yes, there was more than one occasion where Amathea’s brass ran away from charming and turned into abrasive and offensive. But regardless Grillby found himself wishing them nothing but the best. He found himself willing to do things for them he otherwise would not. He found himself protective of them and their happiness.

All of this he realized a handful of weeks into their stay with each other. First of all, Grillby found himself doing something that was already very unlike himself - going into camp during his free time, as opposed to staying at his tent and enjoying his solitude. It was one of those days where Gaster had decided to go harass the rest of the camp with his presence while Amathea met with the other commanders in the afternoon. Normally, Grillby would have just let himself unwind in comfortable silence. Maybe polish his armor a few times just in case they were deployed in the next few days. But shortly after Gaster had disappeared into the mess of tents and monsters of the camp below, Grillby’s mind had started wandering into some things that were very much _not_ relaxing, and much more along the lines of distressing.

Amathea was still getting on to Gaster about signing his attacks during their spars. She was more than justified in it. Even Grillby, who was having such a hard time learning the handspeak, was beginning to decipher what the different gestures meant. Even when those gestures were ones he’d never seen before. It was worrying Grillby more and more, how vulnerable it made the skeleton. It was a glaring weakness and, the more he’d thought about it, the more he thought he could find a way to help fix it. After all, Gaster just needed something to do with his hands.

So Grillby had decided that walking through the crowd of a camp was worth the discomfort, at least for a little while. He walked with purpose, inventory heavy with a few trade items he knew would get him what he needed. He stopped at a few different vendors, talking with them briefly about what he needed and getting some sound advice on what to do about his little idea. For as pleasant as the conversation they made was, he was glad to be rid of them and on his way when finished. It was hard to be pleasant when all a monster was doing was trying to sell you something completely off-topic and of absolutely no use.

Grillby made out with a small bolt of cheap black fabric, a needle and an ample about of thread. He was striding on his way, head up and shoulders squared in a mimic of the imposing walk Amathea had when she went about her business. Grillby had noticed most people leaped out of the way for her when she did this, and was pleasantly surprised when they did the same for him as he went. The curious stares he got leaned more towards impressed, monsters musing to themselves about what pressing business he must be on to look so stern as he went.

That was when a commotion had struck up, ripples running through the camp like wildfire in the wake of it. Someone was getting into a fight. Grillby heard it in the whispering around him, noticed the shift in the atmosphere. He paused mid-step, his flame tinging into pensive yellows and greens. That couldn’t possibly be…? No. No, Gaster was a lot of things, but a brawler wasn’t one of them. Nothing to worry about. The skeleton was probably on his way back to the tent now. After all, the sun was getting low. Amathea would be back soon.

“A fight? Seriously?”

Grillby frowned as he walked by a passing conversation, slowing a bit to listen out of curiosity. And not worry. Because there was no reason for that right now.

“Sure a fight, _if_ you could call it that,” came the terse reply, “I saw the tail-end of it. The other guy just kept dodging out of the way.”

Grillby stopped walking completely. _No_.

“Pff! First fight we have here in weeks and it’s not even interesting.”

Grillby let out a whine of a moan, looking up at the sky pitifully. _Why_. He huffed out a sigh of smoke and turned to walk back the way he’d come, startling the two monsters he’d overheard speaking when he suddenly intruded on their conversation. Huh, was that what he looked like when Gaster snuck up on him?

“Sorry to bother,” Grillby said with an apologetic flicker, “But uh, you wouldn’t happen to know if the monster involved was a skeleton, would you?”

One of the monsters, a cat-like creature with ears that made him look like he was stuck in a flinch, shook his head, “N-no sir. He was moving too fast.”

Grillby could’ve rolled his eyes. Oh that _sounded_ like Gaster.

“Did you catch anything at all?” Grillby pressed nervously, measuring out a roundabout of Gaster’s height with his hand, “Tall guy? Wearing all black, maybe?”

The monster nodded, “Y… yeah?”

“For heaven’s sakes!”

Both the monsters in front of Grillby flinched as he gave a bitter spark, fire lilting into fretful purples and blues, “Oh but of course it’s probably him.”

In an instant he was jogging back off the direction he’d come from, barely managing to shoot a frustrated ‘thank you’ over his shoulder at the monsters as he went. If Grillby had luck, he’d be cursing it. Of _course_ Gaster would manage to get himself into trouble. Well… to be honest he figured out of any of them it would be Amathea who would get stuck in a brawl first. She had that kind of personality, even if she was a commander. But Gaster suffered from his own brand of sarcasm that could get under a bad-tempered monster’s skin just as well as Amathea’s overbearing brashness could.

Grillby skid to a ragged halt just outside an imposing semicircle of monsters. All of them seemed pretty intent on the scene before them, some cheering and waving and others shouting insults. Grillby hazarded a look around, scowling at the fact that no commanders were in sight to break up the mess. But of course, they were all meeting for the evening weren’t they? They couldn’t begin to suspect the entire camp would fall to chaos while their backs were turned for more than two seconds. Okay, maybe not the _entire_ camp, but close enough.

A few attacks rippled through the center of the ring of monsters, causing parts of the group to flinch and reel back, realizing there was nothing separating them from what was happening inside. Grillby let out a groan of dismay when one of the spirals of magic that fizzled out of existence above the heads of the crowd was an unmistakable bone attack. There was a jeer from inside as well, but Grillby couldn’t hear the words said above the noises of monsters chattering excitedly around him. The pitch in the voice sounded like Gaster.

Grillby suddenly realized he had no idea what to do. Break up the fight? How was he supposed to do that?! There were monsters everywhere! And what would it even help? If the monsters were determined enough to keep going… _augh_ and what had even started this in the first place?! Grillby stomped a foot angrily on the ground, managing to grab the attention of some of the monsters nearest to him. One of them took a wary step away from him, shooting a pensive stare at the fire that was now blossoming into aggravated whites, purples and blues.

Well. Might as well. Try _something_.

Exasperated and worried, heat rolling off of him in waves, Grillby strode towards the crowd. The monsters that had noticed him immediately stepped out of his path, some of them flinching back a few more steps because of the uncomfortable heat. Those who didn’t notice he grabbed by the shoulders - flinching as he did so - and pushed them aside. He got a lot of startled, angry looks, most of which were cut off the minute realization struck. Grillby shoved his way past the ring of monsters just as their roaring reached its most enthusiastic pitch, the side he’d entered through quieting pensively when he stumbled into the openness of the ring.

The first thing Grillby noticed was Gaster, a look of confused shock on his face, his teeth barred in a nervous sort of half-grin. The second he noticed was the monster holding Gaster menacingly, some large lizard-type with knicks on normally shiny scales from whatever attacks Gaster had landed on him. The monster had Gaster by the collar of his shirt, standing on his absolute tip-toes so his feet weren’t yanked off the ground. The last thing Grillby noticed were the two other monsters beside him, one that had noticed Grillby shove his way through and another that hadn’t. The one that _had_ noticed looked like they were already regretting they’d been caught.

There was a heat and an anger that flashed through the elemental that he had never felt before in his short life. His core practically _shuddered_ with it. His throat and his chest felt tight with it. His entire body pitched into a bright and furious blue. Grillby was striding forward in an instant, flame billowing behind every step and leaving brand-like marks in the ground as he walked. Whatever attack the monster holding Gaster had begun to summon crackled apart instantly as Grillby’s hand clapped down on his arm. The monster’s face lit up in angry surprise, and with a howl he dropped Gaster, staggering back and clutching his wrist. Grillby could hardly suppress a hiss as it shivered about  him in a snaking, haze of smoke. He always hated the smell of burning scales. It was tart and sharp and put a taste of metal in him that he didn’t like.

“What is going on here!?” the elemental demanded, standing imposingly between a very relieved looking Gaster and the monsters he’d stopped. The cheering and laughing of the circle of monsters watching had stopped, replaced by a stunned sort of silence that echoed deafeningly back at Grillby. It was a struggle to remain unphased by it. He took a step back, pivoting sideways to shoot Gaster a hard glare but still keeping an eye out for movement in his peripheral. Gaster blinked at him.

“ _What happened?_ ”

The skeleton coughed out a laugh, signing pensively through a couple of sentences that Grillby was hard-pressed in catching. He thought he saw something apologetic but he wasn’t sure. Finally Gaster managed a sheepish and unconvincing, “It was just a uh... misunderstanding?”

Grillby snapped his head back around to the three other monsters who’d been caught up in the fight. The main one had his face contorted into a snarl, angry magic bristled around him with a bitter intent that set Grillby’s flame billowing. Gaster took a hesitant step back. One of the monsters with the first, a pyrope who was sputtering nervously at the potential in the air, started rattling off excuses. Explanations, rather. Grillby faintly registered something about cheating, and someone being taken advantage of. And someone else being annoying and patronizing and someone else not taking kindly to being talked down to like a piece of stupid garbage. B-b-but! Really l-like the skeleton said, this was all just a big misunderstanding and blown w-way out of proportion. Shouldn’t we all s-scatter before a commander shows up and we’re c-court martialed?

It was around the last sentence that things started to sink in. The fury that bubbled around in Grillby’s core started to beat itself back. Reason and self conscious nervousness starting to reclaim the forefront of Grillby’s mind. The blue in his flame flushed itself out as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a jittery and strained sort of yellow-white. Grillby let out a tense sigh of smoke, suddenly remembering just hot hotly he was burning. He calmed it just enough to walk through the crowd without accidentally burning anyone, waved for Gaster to follow him, stepped away from the fight. He needed to calm down. This was stupid. Grillby didn’t fight. Grillby didn’t -

The monster with the burn on his wrist reached forward and snagged Gaster by the arm as he passed. He opened his mouth to yell one last insult, but shut it abruptly when Grillby’s fist connected with the side of his jaw.

Well. That didn’t exactly go to plan.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo you guys get an update a day early! Mostly because not only does it end on a cliffhanger(ish), but because in some weird fit of inspiration, I got 3 chapters written this week instead of one?
> 
> Of course, there's also the hazardous chance that because they were written so fast, they're a little more incoherant than normal. I really really hope that isn't the case. Feel free to yell at me if you think it is, and I'll go do some editing and resubmit.
> 
> Anyway! Next chapter is coming Sundayyyyyy. Sunday or Monday I'm not sure yet. Monday and Thursday updates anyone?  
> Man, making a schedule is weird. But I wanna go to SOME kind of schedule because I want to avoid the crippling guilt that comes from not submitting for 10 days right after submitting like... three times in one week. Like I've done in the past. Hmm.


	14. I Got Your Back, Bro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we bond for a few minutes at get yelled at for a few more

“For what it’s worth,” Gaster said with a miserable smile, “For your first fight it wasn’t all that bad. Ammy will probably be proud… you know… when she’s done being pissed.”

Grillby and Gaster had been penned up in the stockade for the past two days, as was customary for any monsters caught in the middle of a fight. The other three monsters involved had been wisely moved to the medical tent first, then thrown in a makeshift stocks on the other side of the camp to serve out their time.

Amathea had been the first one on the scene to break them up, followed quickly by Brigg and two other commanders Grillby hadn’t recognized, probably there for the other monsters involved. They’d gotten an earful from Amathea first, cursing the stars above for being stuck with such irresponsible fopdoodles, acting like a pair of skelpie-limmers. Doing quisby for this fustilarian tripe of a brawl, what utter gob-shite they were. A rough translation from Gaster later said she was yelling about them acting childish and wasting their time on stupidity. Well. She wasn’t wrong.

Grillby hadn’t stopped pacing since they’d been penned in their makeshift prison. The rut he’d started to wear was impressive. Well, it wasn’t a rut really. More a circular path stamped in with shoe-prints and scorch marks. Within the first few hours of them being stuck in there, Gaster had given up on trying to get Grillby to calm down. No matter what he said or did, Grillby insisted on standing and pacing. Mostly in silence. Occasionally making an outburst about how rashly and stupidly he’d acted. Pensively rambling about how none of this should have happened.

“Grillby you’ve been at this for literally _days_ ,” Gaster sighed, “Look, monsters get into fights. It just happens sometimes. They’ll give us a slap on the wrist and let us out by tonight. Then Ammy will grind our noses into the dirt with training and everything will be fine.”

“ _I_ don’t fight,” Grillby said sternly, not pausing for so much as a step, “I _never_ fight.”

“Okay, okay,” Gaster raised his hands placatingly, “It happened _once_. It’s nothing to lose sleep over.”

There was a pause where Gaster’s only answer was the sound of Grillby pacing.

“Aren’t you exhausted?”

More pacing.

“Grillby! You’ve been red since last night, you’re going to put yourself out!”

This Grillby knew was ridiculous. Something as stupid as pacing all night wouldn’t put him out. Not in the slightest. But before Grillby could protest, Gaster had pinged his soul blue. Grillby found himself forced to the ground beside Gaster, landing with a startled ‘oof’. He gave the skeleton a vicious glare.

“Oh pout all you want,” Gaster muttered, stubbornly holding Grillby in place, “You’re resting for five minutes. If for nothing else than for _my_ sanity. You didn’t even sleep, firefly.”

The most Grillby could protest at this point was by crossing his arms and twitching his foot where he lay - which he did. He let out a pensive sigh.

“What’s your problem, anyway?” Gaster signed tiredly, frowning down at the sputtering flame, “If you were just going to regret it so much later, why bother intervening in the first place?”

Grillby crackled a sharp laugh, “It was literally impossible for me _not_ to do anything. You were about to get beat half to dust. I had to do _something_.”

“Not true,” Gaster shrugged, “You could’ve just let me take whatever I had coming. I mean, for all you know I deserved it.”

Grillby blinked up at the skeleton, thoughtfully quiet. He’d never really… _actually_ asked what the fight was about. Well, not in a way that got him a straight answer at least. And even when he was answered, he was a little too worked up to pay attention. He’d just been _so angry_. He’d lost control of his sense of reason for a whole two minutes. How terrifying.

“ _Did_ you deserve it?” Grillby asked.

Gaster gave a noncommittal shrug, “Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking _you_.”

To this, Gaster gave a broad grin, one that both annoyed and unsettled Grillby.

“What did you _do?_ ”

“Oh it really was just a big, stupid misunderstanding,” Gaster laughed, “We were playing knucklebones, there might have been some gambling involved.”

Grillby gave an exasperated groan.

“And I was having a real good lucky streak actually,” Gaster said pleasantly, “And it was looking like I was going to win the final round. And insults start being thrown about. Which I personally took offense to. I was being such a good sport about it too-”

“You insulted them back,” Grillby corrected, flashing Gaster a withering glare.

“-and they didn’t appreciate my humor about the situation _at all_ ,” Gaster continued with a grin, “And started saying things about me cheating. And it just kept escalating. I mean, I _tried_ to avoid the conflict-”

“You ran away. Probably insulting them the entire time.”

“-but they just wouldn’t give up the chase. Some monsters are just so unreasonable.”

“So what, they accused you of cheating so you guys started calling each others’ bluff?” Grillby asked with a bitter crackle, “That’s _it_?”

“Well mostly it, yes.”

Grillby let out a loud whine, pulling the hood Gaster had oh-so-kindly stitched into his clothing weeks before down over his face, “I almost seared a monster’s arm off over _a game of knucklebones_?!”

Gaster chuckled and patted Grillby on the shoulder, “Oh there there. You didn’t fight _anyone_ over a game of knucklebones. You fought them because they were fighting _me_ over a game of knucklebones.”

Grillby let out another low whine, his fire somehow managing to sputter even lower and cooler than it had before, “All over a stupid misunderstanding. Because they thought you were _cheating?_ What’s even the _point_ to that?”

Gaster wagged a finger at Grillby condescendingly, a laugh at the edge of his voice as he spoke, “Now now, firefly, don’t _you_ start assuming things now. At what point did I _ever_ say I _wasn’t_ cheating?”

Grillby blinked up at the skeleton, muted horror rippling through his flame in pale whites and greens.

“No.”

Gaster’s face split in a wide grin.

“ _No_.”

Barely stifling a laugh, shoulders bobbing as he strove to contain, Gaster signed out a single motion to Grillby.

 _Yes_.

“I could literally kill you right now.”

Gaster gave a shrug, his grin settling back into that normal, lackadaisical stupor, “I _do_ have that effect on people.”

“What would ever possess you to _do_ that?!” Grillby whined, pulling his hood as low as he could over his face shamefully, “This is why all the religious monsters say gambling is of the devil. You know that right? You. Right now. Living proof.”

Gaster gave a hearty laugh at this, “Oh fine, fine. I’ll _never ever_ do it again. Will that make you stop whining?”

Grillby shot Gaster a sideways glare from underneath his hood, “I don’t believe you.”

Gaster chuckled again, offering out a pinky finger for Grillby to shake with his own, “Pinky promise.”

“Last time you offered me that, you tried to kill me,” the elemental growled stubbornly.

“Well I _do_ already have your soul blue,” Gaster grinned.

If Grillby could raise an eyebrow at the skeleton, he could have. Instead, he wrapped his pinky finger around the skeleton’s and gave it a suspicious shake.

“If you get into a fight again over something stupid like this, I refuse to come save you,” Grillby muttered.

“That’s fair.”

“ _And_ I’m breaking that finger.”

Gaster let out an exaggerated squeak, shielding his vulnerable pinky away from Grillby and opening his eyes as wide as he could manage, “ _No_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Grillby tutted, though a smile had managed to creep back into his voice, “I’ll snap it right off. Mandatory promise rules.”

“Says the guy who didn’t even know what that was a month ago,” Gaster muttered with a laugh. The two lapsed into a bit more comfortable of a silence than they had been in before, Gaster finally releasing his hold on Grillby’s soul so the elemental could at the very least make himself comfortable on the ground. The skeleton gave a quiet sigh, looking back over at the elemental.

“In all seriousness though, thank you,” he said, the smile on his face waning as he gave a sigh, “That was a mess and you got me out of it. And I appreciate it.”

Grillby paused, letting those words sink in a moment before saying, “Yeah well… I’m sure you would do the same for me so… don’t worry about it.”

Grillby sighed out a hiss of smoke, his gaze locked on the sky and away from the skeleton that had begun scrutinizing him oh-so-closely as he spoke, “And if you wouldn’t do the same then… well I still wouldn’t worry about it. I mean, there’s no point in anyone trying to rescue something that can’t exactly die, right?”

Gaster frowned, the full body kind of frown that dragged his shoulders down and curved his spine and forced his arms to hug his knees. The brow above the eye that could still move pulled down harshly, the lights of his eyes dimmed just a bit. For a few seconds, he was rendered completely speechless, his mind reeling around a bit to find something appropriate to say.

“I’d still back you up,” Gaster managed finally, “I mean… I’d probably make everything worse, what with you worrying about how fragile I am so often.”

He gave a grim chuckle at this and shrugged, “But it’d be cruel to make you face things alone. Even if you are mostly invincible.”

He grinned, “ ‘Sides, someone’s gotta drag you outta the rain when you’re too dumb to run for cover.”

Grillby gave a condescending _tut!_ , “That happened _once_.”

“Still happened.”

“And you grabbing me in time was pure luck.”

Gaster huffed a laugh, grinning, a comeback on the edge of his teeth, when Amathea’s voice cut him off. The two of them were immediately on their feet, listening as her voice grew closer. When she was close enough for the two of them to make out what she was saying, however, and who she was arguing with, all previous pleasantry from them dropped out of the air like fizzling magic.

“- no use in talking about this any more. You brought your case to Commander Dreemurr himself, and even _he_ told you you’re completely out of line.”

“That’s because Dreemurr is too soft-hearted to take away the job of a handicapped veteran!” came the snarled response, “I don’t care what you used to be capable on the front lines. What matters is what you can do in the present. And you are _clearly_ incapable of training the pair of drabble you have.”

“What, because of _one_ scrap?” her voice was right near the door to the stockade now, her hand might as well be on the latch, “Brigg if you intended to take away the work of every small unit commander who’s had boys in a fight you’d lose half the army.”

There was a huff and a growl, Brigg about to make some retort when Amathea’s voice snapped his chance away, “This is not a discussion. Come at me with some intent, commander and I’ll match you. But if you just intend to vent in my ear then I would suggest you find someone who cares.”

Grillby and Gaster exchanged a glance. Using what broken up signing he could manage, Grillby asked silently:

_Threat?_

Gaster signed slowly back. It took Grillby a second of piecing together, but with a startled flicker he got it.

_Sounds more like a duel, to me._

That was a scary thought.

The two weren’t given a chance to dwell on it long. The door to the stockade was pulled open with a flourish and Amathea stepped aside to let them out. Brigg was already storming off, disappearing into the mess of tents and bodies outside. Gaster gave Amathea a nervous grin.

“Are mom and dad fighting?” he asked playfully, earning himself a hearty punch to the shoulder.

“ _You._ Shut up,” she said with an unamused scowl, her fist planting itself firmly on her hip as she exclaimed, “Do you have _any idea_ how much trouble you’re in?! Gambling. Cheating. _Brawling_. Causing a _huge_ disturbance.”

Her glare shot around to Grillby, making the elemental flinch, “And _you_. You sent one monster to the hospital tent with _scarring burns_. And that poor pyrope won’t be able to light properly for a _week_.”

She snarled back to Gaster again, “And that other beastie had at least twelve stitches! _Twelve,_ Gaster!”

“I know _I_ _know_ , it was a mess,” Gaster said quickly, signing frenetically as he went, “It was dumb and it won’t happen again, I swear.”

He gave Grillby a sideways glance, “Double swear.”

Amathea poked him hard in the sternum, making the skeleton flinch back a step, “Oh, you better _believe_ it isn’t happening again. So help me, I’m going to run you so ragged you won’t even have time to _think_. And that goes _double_ for _you,_ tinderbox! You were supposed to _stop_ him from doing something stupid. Not _make it worse_!”

Amathea let out an angry sigh, her gills flaring in a huff. She closed her eyes tightly, moving her hand up to pinch the space between them.

“ _Aiya!_ ” she growled past her gritted teeth, “My mother always told me I’d grow up to have children just like me, and I didn’t even have to have my own for that damn curse to work.”

Gaster and Grillby exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Well, if they hadn’t been feeling guilty before, they were certainly feeling it now. Gaster scratched the back of his head awkwardly, frowning to himself for a moment before his hands moved sluggishly to voice a thought. Some kind of consolation. A sigh from Amathea cut him off. She gave the two of them a tired smirk, a withering kind of look that displayed some kind of haggard and worried optimism. She gave the two a searching look up and down before allowing her smile to get a bit brighter.

“I suppose I must have taught you a thing or two right, though,” she laughed quietly, “You came out pretty well unscathed didn’t ya?”

Grillby gave a nervous laugh, “That was more an accomplishment on Gaster’s part. It was three against one when I showed up.”

“Yeah, and it’s a good thing you _did_ show up, or things would’ve gone much differently I’ll bet,” Amathea hummed, “Let that be a lesson to you Gaster. Don’t pick a fight you can’t win.”

“Yes ma’am,” Gaster laughed sheepishly, “Like I said, won’t happen again.”

He paused before adding, “I mean, unless _they_ start it-”

“Don’t you _even_ finish that sentence,” Amathea groaned, “Alright, let’s get home. I’d like to actually sleep tonight.”

She turned and started walking, expecting them to follow, “Heaven’s alive, that tent being empty is a plight on the nerves on a dark night.”

Grillby wasn’t sure whether the whole ordeal had gone better or worse than he’d expected. Assuming he’d expected anything at all. The words he’d heard Amathea and Brigg exchanging wouldn’t leave him as they walked, though, and he found himself frowning tensely about them as they went. Brigg wasn’t a friendly monster to begin with. Obviously the elemental didn’t know him personally, and normally he’d hate to assume. But the thought of Brigg calling Amathea’s authority into question all because of Grillby and Gaster’s petty mistake? That was a thought that made his core boil. They were halfway to the tent when Grillby gathered up enough nerve to ask about it.

“Amathea? Was Brigg… threatening you?”

The fish monster barked a loud laugh, “One fight down and you’re already itching for more, are you?”

Grillby gave a flustered flicker, “N-no. That’s not it at all! It’s just… if he’s giving grief over us-”

“Brigg’s problem with me runs a bit deeper than just you two,” Amathea hummed, cutting the elemental off, “The scaley means well, I’ll give him that much. He’s the type of brute that needs to know without a shadow of a doubt that he can protect what he needs to, and he’s unafraid of making hard decisions to realize that. There’s something to respect in that. Takes a strong soul to believe that way.”

“... Right…” Grillby said slowly.

“However, he believes you have to have a certain soundness of mind, body and soul to protect monsterkind to the best of your ability,” Amathia’s fins twitched and she scowled, “So monsters like myself he believes are no longer fit to fight. A lot of monsters would agree with him, I’ll grant you. Monsters who reassigned my unit and sat me aside as an escort. But I tell you lads, it’s the strength of the soul that makes a monster, and my soul is strong and fierce and will stay that way for as long as I live, make no mistake!”

She huffed a bitter sigh and glowered, “And if I have to beat that into his scaly hide then I will.”

Grillby glanced sideways to Gaster, and the skeleton frowned and signed worriedly back. There was a pause between them before Gaster spoke up.

“So what happens if he decides to duel you then?” the skeleton asked.

Amathea shrugged, “Dunno. I’ve never dueled before. But if it comes to that, you better believe I’ll have a lot of fun making him look like a pin pillow.”

Neither of them had much of a response to that.


	15. Hey Lucid Dreamer Make Up Your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which dreams are slightly frightening, but we still don't know why

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooooh my lord, guys. So a few of you have gone above and beyond and decided to be beautiful people and make some fanart? And I don't know how I could ever thank you? Like seriously? That's beautiful and seriously i'm not sure what to say! It's too awesome for words.
> 
> But enough of my gushing! You guys should totally go check out this rad stuff! It's blowing me away!
> 
> http://druidickats.tumblr.com/post/144030139851/i-finally-finished-this-bloody-piece-jegus-grist  
> http://druidickats.tumblr.com/post/141821380281/fanart-for-this-wonderful-fanfiction-right-here  
> http://gamerselkie.deviantart.com/art/Amathea-the-Brave-608390558?q=gallery%3AGamerSelkie&qo=1
> 
> And these next two are more spin-off comics. They don't happen in the canon of the story, but the amazing artist who drew them thought they were funny little scenerios that the characters would get into. They're adorable and made me laugh :D
> 
> http://gamerselkie.deviantart.com/art/How-did-I-got-this-job-608390267  
> http://gamerselkie.deviantart.com/art/UT-Grillby-and-one-annoying-skeleton-604512124

Amathea allowed them to sit out what remained of their day in some remnant of peace, telling them to take advantage of the kindness now while she afforded it - there was going to be hell to pay come morning. Grillby was already shuddering at the thought of having to work even _harder_ than he had been before. He wondered what in the world she might have planned as punishment for them in their training regimen. Though for as worried as he was about whatever was in store for them, it was nothing compared to the worry churning around in his core at the thought of Amathea getting into a duel.

Grillby wasn’t the only one worried, if the quiet on Gaster was any telling sign. Since they’d arrive back at their tent, Gaster hadn’t bothered to speak. There was a faraway look in his eyes, something that saw past the flames in the campfire to something in the back of his thoughts. And whatever he was thinking, he chose to keep it to himself. Not even his hands moved give a sign of it’s nature. It was troubling, but Grillby found himself unwilling to pry. Gaster was probably just a bit overwhelmed about everything that had happened over the last few days. Honestly at this point, the whole fight seemed more a dream to Grillby than a reality. He couldn’t blame the skeleton if he was feeling stunned. But with Amathea already asleep for the night and Gaster’s mind in no-man’s-land, it made for a quiet campsite, and Grillby had already had his fill of nervous pacing.

He needed to do something to take his mind off of worrying though.

Grillby gave a start when he remembered he still had the fabric and thread in his inventory. He’d completely forgotten about that! Well, if nothing else he could busy his hands with something. It wasn’t quite as distracting as he could’ve wished - it was easy for the mind to wander while the hands were busy - but it was _something_ at least. So Grillby left Gaster to his thoughts and retired inside, finding himself a corner out of the way where he could sit and sew. He was no master at it. He… couldn’t actually remember a time when he’d last sewed anything… assuming he ever had. Err… And Amathea was sound asleep. Well, that was just brilliant. Well, sewing anything couldn’t possibly be _that_ hard. All sorts of monsters did it, didn’t they? Oh lord.

Grillby sighed out an apprehensive wisp of smoke and got to work as best as he could. He stumbled through threading the needles - _how in the world can you even see that tiny thing??_ \- and debated for a while on how and where he was supposed to sew what he was trying to make. He ended up tearing up his stitches three times, staring and hesitating for several minutes and eventually laying it aside.

So much for doing something nice.

It was then that Gaster stumbled inside, rubbing his face tiredly and collapsing into his bed face-first with a world-weary sigh. Grillby blinked. Had he really wasted _that much_ time? Peering at the world outside earned the elemental a glance at a starry, slightly overcast sky. The camp was darkening, fires and torches being put out in favor of the majority going to sleep. A few monsters were moving in from the outposts on the hills to switch shifts with their relief for the evening. Wow, he really _had_ wasted that much time. Grillby gave a sigh of his own, flickering lower in defeat before collapsing onto the ground to sleep.

\--

That night, Grillby awoke to the sound of Gaster having a nightmare. Or rather, to the sound of him breathing raggedly. At first he didn’t know what to make of the sound, his mind too tired and sluggish to process what it was. Wasn’t that just the sound of his fire? No, no. He didn’t make nearly that much noise when he was asleep. Ha, well, he wouldn’t really know what he sounded like when he was asleep, but whatever that was it _definitely_ wasn’t him.

When he’d finally been awake enough to process that it was Gaster, he clamored to his feet abruptly. He cast a worried look in the skeleton’s direction, at a loss for what to do or how to help. Aside from the erratic breathing, and the occasional twitch his fingers gave from where they draped over the side of his makeshift bed, there wasn’t much to indicate something was amiss. Even his breathing was just a mild hitch, something like a snag in his throat like he was about to speak or shout but never actually making it past the breath. The bony ridges above his eye sockets were drawn low, even the broken one managing to twitch a bit lower. It felt a bit too unsettlingly like he was glaring in Grillby’s direction, and the elemental stepped aside to disappear out of the possible field of vision.

Should he… do something? He remembered Amathea had told him to leave Gaster be but…

Grillby rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly. He’d heard of monsters having nightmares because of the war. It wasn’t a new concept to him. It happened quite often given the terror of the situation and how it could grip people. He’d… also heard of monsters making things worse by waking their friends. Accidently getting attacked or waking them only long enough for them to have a second nightmare as soon as they fell asleep again. But this was the first time it’d happened to anyone he _knew_.

Grillby cast a look in Amathea’s direction, looking for some sort of advice - the commander was sound asleep, snoring under her breath and oblivious.

With a nervous whine and a bitter spark, Grillby crept over to where Gaster slept. He paused, hovering apprehensively over the skeleton as he shuddered and his breathing hitched a little more fervently. What was he supposed to _do_? Well, Gaster couldn’t really hurt Grillby if he attacked him upon waking could he? Maybe it was worth it to try… but gently. So he didn’t awake in a panic?

Grillby cautiously fanned himself a little warmer - comforting warmth. Hopefully the kind of warmth one might feel from a hearth or fireplace. The change in temperature made Amathea shift uncomfortably in her sleep, she muttered some sort of gibberish complaint as she did so. Gaster saw no change, his lack of skin making him relatively resistant to the subtle changes in temperature Grillby was making. The elemental sighed out a breath and leaned forward to hover a hand over the skeleton’s shoulder.

“Gas-”

He nearly fell backwards in surprise when the skeleton’s hand flicked up to grab his wrist, his grip tight and vice-like. The lights in Gaster’s eyes were still out, his face stuck in the troubled glare from when he was dreaming. For a few tense seconds, Grillby held his breath and waited for Gaster to strike out, make some sort of overwhelming noise or motion. Instead, the skeleton’s brow just wrinkled a bit further, the lights in his eye sockets winking to life sluggishly. He stared disorientatedly at the hand that gripped Grillby’s wrist for a moment, his teeth gritting in a confused frown.

“What?” he blinked, something finally occurring to him, and looked up at Grillby. With a startled ‘oh!’ he released the elemental in an instant. The elemental clutched his hand close as soon as he was free, suddenly very aware of the harsh shuddering of his soul in his chest. That had given him a start, to say the least.

“Sorry,” Grillby managed awkwardly, giving an apologetic flicker, “You okay?”

Gaster barked a shaky laugh, his eyes giving every corner of the tent a quick, pensive sweep before countering with a cautious and faltering, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Amathea shifted in her sleep again, yanking both of their gazes in her direction. There was a pause between them where they both silently wondered if she would wake up, and a visible sigh of relief when she didn’t. Gaster made a quiet sign for them to go outside - Grillby noticed the skeleton’s hands were shaking as he did so. They crept out as silently as they could manage, leaving their commander to sleep in relative peace. Grillby was signing apologetically at the skeleton before they’d even made it out of the tent. Gaster shot him a quizzical smile, though something about him was still off. Jittery and nervous and unnaturally still. His hands moved gruff and sluggish in response.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked, a breath of a laugh on his teeth.

Grillby’s flame lilted into deeper reds and oranges as he spoke, subtle worry pulling his flame cooler, “I shouldn’t have woken you. I’m sorry for that. It’s just… you looked a bit… you sounded… Well. I thought you were having a nightmare.”

Gaster sighed out a breath, rubbing the side of his skull tiredly. He didn’t meet Grillby’s gaze as the elemental spoke, instead choosing to study the grass somewhere off to his left. He blinked in that direction forlornly for a few seconds before finally lifting his gaze up to the elemental.

“No you were fine,” came the weary response, “I was going to wake up soon anyway. So uh… you saved me that bit I guess.”

His gaze dropped again, growing a bit distant as whatever was eating up his mind sucked away his focus. Grillby shifted his weight on his feet uncomfortably for a moment, grasping for something to say. Finally he settled on, “Do you… want to talk about it?”

This dragged a short, bitter laugh from the skeleton, “No. Not really.”

He sighed and sat where he’d stood. After a pause, not knowing what else to do, Grillby mirrored the motion. Silence ate up the space between them, peppered with the sound of a few night insects that hadn’t been quite driven off by the cooling autumn nights. Gaster fidgeted with his hands awkwardly, and Grillby watched with quiet concern.

Finally the skeleton muttered, “You should try to go back to sleep.”

Grillby gave a quiet flicker.

“ _Please_ , firefly.”

The elemental gave a quiet sigh before climbing back to his feet, “You’re sure you’re fine?”

“Probably not,” Gaster managed to sign with at least a hint of humor, a smile lighting up his eyes a little brighter, “But I will be.”

The skeleton seemed to compose himself with a bit of finality then. Straightening the tired curve in his spine and crossing his legs, shuffling to get comfortable. He closed his eye sockets and sighed out a calming breath, deliberate and consoling. The stance was familiar, something that flickered at the edge of Grillby’s mind. Peaceful. Was this that meditation Gaster had spoken with him about once before? Whatever it was, it was already zapping away the raggedness that the nightmare had left behind on the skeleton’s frame, replacing it with a practiced calm.

Grillby might have to ask the skeleton to teach him that sometime.

For now though, with a final flicker and yawn the elemental shuffled back into the tent, content to grab what remaining sleep could be afforded to him while he had the chance.


	16. Looks like we'll finally see some action (eventually)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have a little anticipation

The morning broke on them grim and early and cool. The clouds that had half-eaten the sky the night before had spread to consume the horizon as the day bloomed to life. It brought with it a mist and a muffled sort of cool that left the soul sluggish and tired. Along with this dreary morning however, came a guest. Grillby was awoken by the sound of voices: Gaster’s defensive and tired and the new-come monster’s frank and earnest. The elemental sat up tiredly just as Amathea stepped past him, grumbling quietly to herself about the earliness of the hour and who the hell would bother them at the crack of dawn. Grillby yawned and stretched and pulled himself to his feet, stepping after Amathea and into the grey daylight.

The monster - a rabbit-type monster with dim colored fur and bright, wild eyes - twitched her whiskers welcomingly to Amathea as she approached her. She gave a fidgety salute before reaching into a messenger back at her hip and offering Amathea a small letter. With a wordless nod she left, dashing back in what must have been the direction she came in from. Grillby gave another tired yawn, his fire dim and fatigued.

“Well, that was abrupt,” he mused outloud to himself, glancing back to his captain, “What was that-”

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the worried frown on Amathea’s face. She opened up the letter reluctantly. Gaster watched her from where he sat cross-legged on the ground - he didn’t seem to have moved much since the night before. 

“It’s not from Thetis is it?” he asked quietly.

Amathea let out a tense sigh, visibly relaxing as she read the letter, “No, it’s not.”

Grillby looked between the two of them, his body pitching into cool, confused colors. Gaster smirked at him, hands moving tiredly as he explained.

“Ammy and her sis, Thetis, write each other letters. Whenever they pass near each others’ camps, they go out of their way to deliver them,” he said with a shrug, his voice quieting a bit when he added, “If the letter comes from someone else… well… that means she didn’t get the chance to deliver it herself.”

“Oh,” was about the only thing Grillby could come up with to say in response.

“Aye,” Amathea hummed quietly, reaching across to tuck the letter into a pocket on her hip, “I’ve had two brothers get their letters delivered to me. It’s grim. But... I can’t imagine what I’d do with myself if any of them just disappeared one day and I had no idea what happened to them. This way at least they aren’t just dust somewhere, forgotten, like so many other monsters are.”

She paused, frills twitching in thought for a moment before brightening slightly, “Though thank heavens for little miracles,  _ this _ isn’t  _ that _ .”

The fish monster chuckled, rolling her eyes emphatically, “Oh but aren’t you boys so lucky. Looks like I won’t have time to drill you to dust after all. This is a summons. Our unit and those adjoined to it are shipping out by noon. Looks like they’ve finally spied themselves some mages for us to get after.”

Grillby’s fire stoked in an instant, “Really?  _ Finally _ ?”

“Woah, don’t get too excited there firefly,” Gaster smirked, shuffling to his feet.

“I haven’t been on the front lines since the autumn rains started,” Grillby whined with a bitter spark, “How am I supposed to help anyone from  _ back here _ ? I was summoned to be out there, doing things to cut down on the waste of monster life. I’m  _ powerless _ here.”

Amathea chuckled, giving the elemental a reassuring pat on the back, “Well worry about it no longer, tinderbox.”

She waved a hand to them, ushering them along, “Alright, let’s get this mess packed up. We’ll need to be rallied up with Brigg and ready to go as soon as possible. They’ll probably need our help getting mobile.”

Gaster rolled his eyes, groaning, “Oh why even bother helping him anyway? He’s a jerk.”

To this, Amathea gave Gaster a gentle smack on the back of the head, “Words like that are what get people killed out there.”

Both Grillby and Gaster caught her in a confused stare.

“There’s monsters out there depending on us captains to lead well and work together,” she explained, firm and serious, “Dissonance between us will get people killed. Whatever personal problems Brigg has with me, they’ll be set aside in favor of the lives that need kept safe and I’ll be doing the same on my end. Blunt and misguided the scaly might be, but he’s still got a good soul. I’d expect you two to treat him as such.”

Amathea smirked, “Which means not going out of your way to instigate the man. If there’s a quarrel to be had, he’ll be taking it up with me personally. But I doubt that’s a thing to happen. Now you two get moving. If you pack up fast enough you might even get some breakfast before we shove off.”

She broke into a wide grin then, “Unless you want to start living off of hardtack and jerky so soon on our adventure.”

Gaster let out one last complaining groan before finally shambling off to start packing, Grillby following close behind. Anything they could make do without of for the journey, they stowed away. Only the barest of what they could carry they kept. Armor and weapons were shoved into inventory slots, bedding packed as lightly as possible without the elements being a danger. The tent was torn down and folded and compacted as far as could be managed. Cooking supplies were left - as soon as they began travel, there wouldn’t be much time for such niceties. They’d instead be surviving off of stored goods, hard breads and dried meat, maybe even some dried fruits and vegetables if it could be managed. Anything that wouldn’t spoil during the walk. Though Grillby did manage to save some space in his inventory for his spice box, smiling to himself at the knowledge of improving at least a handful of their meals while they muddled their way along. 

If previous experience served well enough, Grillby new the next camp would be much less comfortable than this one had been. They were always that way the closer to the front lines they got. Supplies were more or less scarce, depending on what supply trains made it through to them. Units would be constantly moving in or out, retreating or advancing. The camp itself would move with the major troop movements. There would always be an air of expectancy, urgency. Waiting for the inevitable call to fight. Waiting for the call to flee. 

There were always wounded there as well, infirmaries full of the healing or the dying. Gaster would probably have a lot more work to do - he was a doctor, after all. As it was in their camp now, there were plenty enough doctors to help the few wounded they took in. They weren’t close enough to any major battles to have to heal too many monsters. Occasionally they would get overflow from the battlefront, the wounded brought in on carts and wagons when it could be afforded to them. Though instances like that were few and far inbetween, unfortunately. Monsters were woefully fragile after all. Many fell down before they could reach an outpost like theirs where they could be treated properly.

A camp on the front lines would be starkly different than this. Sometimes there were more wounded than there were healthy. Sometimes so many of them that the doctors couldn’t reach them all. The smell and taste of dust would be rampant, and Gaster would likely be knee deep in it, helping to prevent the loss of life. Grillby shuddered at the thought. He was going to miss home while they were gone.

When they’d finished packing what they could - and managed to slip in a quick breakfast - Amathea led them down into the main camp to join up with Brigg and his company. It was an effort to keep up with her, with her purposeful strides that carried her far and fast. When they found him, Brigg was already instructing his unit in packing everything that would be necessary for when they marched tomorrow. Wagons were being rolled, horses saddled and oxen hitched, monsters scurried to and fro in preparation. There was an air of nervousness, an air of tense worry and excitement that sent a rush through the air and put a bitter taste in the magic the monsters cast as they worked.

But of course, Brigg’s unit was a new one, made up mostly of recruits who hadn’t seen actual battle yet. For them, the war was about to become much more real, much more visceral and powerful. Soon, they were going to figure out what battle was, what humans were. Every expectation was going to be tested and dashed apart, and they were going to have to pick up the pieces and decide what to do with them. That’s how it had been for Grillby anyway. Of course, there was something in his soul that hummed and had told him what would happen when he’d first stepped foot in battle - some salient advice that spoke peace to him when others only knew worry and dread. It was hard for him to believe he had ever felt the nervousness they were probably feeling now, though he was sure he must have felt it at some point.

Amathea took one glance around at the mess of monsters and equipment and with a prideful step made her way past them, Gaster and Grillby in tow. Brigg was in the middle of directing a handful of monsters getting food into some wagons for the trip to whatever camp they were to be shipped to. When she stepped up to him, she waited patiently for him to finish. Grillby couldn’t help but notice how small and… almost  _ frail  _ she looked beside the hulking brute of a dragon monster. He was taller than even Gaster was, all muscle and scales and teeth. She could have been a child beside him, a child who was confident and defiant and everything she was ever supposed to be. When he turned to face her she glared up at him unflinchingly and unapologetically, and she spoke with authority.

Much to Grillby’s surprise, Brigg responded in kind. He wasn’t derisive or confrontational. There was a perpetual twitch in his movements, a bitterness and innate frustration in him that had been there since Grillby had first met the monster. But the hostility he’d had in his voice the day before when he’d spoken with Amathea was absent, replaced with a loud sternness that was busied with preparation for war. Amathea had been right after all - this was more important to Brigg than any personal squabbles he could possibly make. 

The two exchanged quick information on which camp they were marching out to and the length of the journey. Gaster gave some impatient signs when he realized they’d be walking for a week, maybe more. Grillby did his best to stifle a chuckle at him. They were moving out with two other units, converging on a riverside camp several miles to the east. One of the human armies had managed to drive the monster lines back, at least two mages ravaging the battlefields there. Grillby’s fire gave a concerned flicker at their mention. He should be there  _ now _ . Not here, waiting for the long march. 

Grillby and Gaster were put to work loading up the equipment and supply wagons that would be following behind the units as they marched. It was a lot of stacking and throwing and passing around, and while the work was mindless and busy it at least passed the time quickly. It gave Grillby a distraction from the nervous itch building inside him that made him want to move, want to leave. If he had the chance, he’d be pacing. Gaster stayed nervously silent.

Noon came, the units were organized together as well as they could be. The call was given and they marched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this is late! I have a couple of excuses.  
> First one is, I actually wrote 2700 words of something completely different, and then decided it was way too out of character and rewrote it.
> 
> Second one is I'm exhausted. XD  
> I've fallen into that tired slump that inevitably happens every year after my semester gets out. I've been creating a lot of content for several months, and not giving myself too much time to relax and take some in. I also think my writing might be suffering a bit because of it. 
> 
> So I'm taking a bit of a break! Not for too long. Just for this week, maybe next week if I'm still feeling really off. So we'll be missing this Thursday's update. At the very latest, expect updates to resume May 26! Though I plan on being back in action by the 23. 
> 
> Sorry to disappoint! I'll see you all again in roughly a week.


	17. Takes a lot of intent for that kind of mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gaster finally get's to be interesting again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy guys! We had some more beautiful fanart posted for this story, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for that! Seriously I'm blushing and giggling and hopping all over the place you should see me!  
> Go check it out! It's awesome! (And also from one of my favorite scenes in this darn thing so lookit that!)
> 
> http://cigdolsid.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-1-611276769

“Are we there yet?” Gaster whined, sarcasm and boredom dripping off every word, “I don’t _want_ to walk anymore.”

“We’ll get there when we get there, Gaster,” Amathea growled annoyedly. The skeleton grinned back at her.

The company of monsters had already been plodding along steadily for days, meandering across what few roads and open ground could be afforded to them on the way to their destination. It was slow going. They were confined to the speed of the oxen that pulled their supply carts, the large animals managing half the speed of the average walking monster - and that was in good terrain. Climbing hills was quickly becoming a chore, a struggle to be avoided at the cost of adding time to the journey. At this rate, it might be another week before they made it to their destination. That’s what Grillby figured anyway, and the thought made him nearly mad with impatience.

The rest of the monsters in the company didn’t share his enthusiasm, however. They didn’t mind the prolonged walk. Many creatures amongst the group were still looking about each other with nervous anticipation, both afraid and excited for whatever the battles ahead would bring. Of course, there were always some monsters that wanted to prove their glory in battle. But much more numerous were those just hoping to keep friends safe, to survive, to actually tell stories of greatness or have the chance to dismiss them. Conversation was a strange mix of light but tense, laughs were nervous and forced and bright all at once.

Even Gaster seemed to have given in to the heavier atmosphere, his sarcasm thicker and his humor darker. There was a quietness in his movements that worried Grillby, it showed once in a while almost distractedly, tugging his wild hand gestures a bit slower and more reserved even when he was at his best. When they pitched their tents at night, Grillby knew the embittered skeleton was having nightmares, worry about the coming events dragging them to the forefront of his sleeping mind. They didn’t always wake the elemental, but every morning Gaster was up before either Grillby or Amathea were. Sometimes he managed to drift off into doze again, others he stayed wide-awake. It had Grillby worried. If Gaster was to do any fighting at all, he needed rest.

It also didn’t help that, whenever Amathea could, she had both Grillby and Gaster doing drills or out scouting or foraging or any other task she could get them assigned to. After all, she still had to punish them for that fight they’d gotten into. In her words: _I’ll be damned if you get off easy just ‘cause they have us wandering halfway to hell!_ She constantly volunteered them for work, which meant extra walking and extra magic and extra annoyance. Though… Grillby supposed he should be grateful for the chance to be useful after having gone so long in the comfort of camp. At least it gave him something more productive to do than just walking all day.

Now they were walking with the rest of the company, having switched shifts a few hours ago with the other scouts walking about the wandering group. They’d found little of use while they were out, a few animal paths, a stream. There were telling signs of skirmishes in some parts of the country they’d passed through, remains of short fights between defending monsters and roving groups of humans. They were nothing compared to the battlegrounds Grillby knew were waiting for them at their destination, but they were still enough to make the scouting crews nervous. Grillby couldn’t blame them.

After all, just about everything made the elemental nervous.

“You know what we need?” Gaster asked, snapping Grillby’s mind back to the present.

“Oh here we go,” Amathea groaned.

“Wings,” Gaster continued matter-of-factly, “If we all had wings, we wouldn’t have to worry about all of this cross-country walking nonsense.”

Grillby blinked at the skeleton incredulously, a smile lighting him brighter. He was joking… right?

“Well you can’t give _everyone wings_ ,” Amathea bickered at the nonsensical skeleton, “It’s an impractical waste of magic at best and impossible at worst.”

“Not true!” Gaster tutted, “We’d already be at the camp if we were in the air. There’s nothing up there to walk around or meander a cart through. Whimsuns do it all the time! And ghosts! And it’s so much easier for them to get around places!”

“Ghosts are incorporeal,” Amathea said, rolling her eyes, “They don’t count. Everything is easier for them - except picking things up.”

“Maybe _that’s_ what we need. Limited incorporeality,” Gaster shrugged, “No humans could kill us then.”

“You can’t make monsters incorporeal!”

“It’d be perfect!” the skeleton continued regardless, “Flying. Phasing through objects. And you ‘d still be able to use magical attacks!”

“Yeah, and you’d constantly be pining for an actual existence,” Amathea argued back, “Not able to feel hot or cold. Not able to eat anything. Not able to touch people or fiddle with objects…”

Gaster waved his hands dismissively, “Oh it’s a good idea and you know it! But fine. Back to the wings-”

“What if a monster’s afraid of heights?”

Both Amathea and Gaster paused in their argument to look back at Grillby. The elemental sputtered blankly at them for a moment before adding, “I mean… you’re not going to make a bunch of monsters fly if they’re terrified of heights, right? You wouldn’t force a Volcan or a Vegetoid or - you know, any of the deep-earth monsters to fly. It’s completely out of their element. If monsters like that were meant to fly, they’d have been born with wings you know.”

There was a pause where Amathea raised her eyebrows at Gaster and the skeleton signed out loud the counter arguments he was forming in his mind. Finally after a few flourishes of movement that Grillby could hardly catch, the skeleton seemed to come to a conclusion he liked.

“Well, just being out of your element doesn’t automatically equate to fear,” he said simply, “And if we want to take the phrase literally here, you’re out of your element all the time and you’re not-”

Gaster cut himself off abruptly, scowling to himself as he gave a haphazard and exasperated sign that pulled a crackling chuckle from Grillby.

Amathea grinned, “Thought that one through well, didn’t ya?”

Gaster did the best eye-roll he could manage, “Okay, but Grillby’s anxiety is not an unconquerable fear.”

“Well no, _mine_ isn’t,” the elemental said with a shrug, “But it _is_ distracting, and at its worst it can be pretty miserable. I’m constantly hyper conscious of how I’m supposed to carry myself and my temperature and how close I am to other monsters. Imagine that but in the air, with dozens of monsters who don’t know what they’re doing. And add in wind and the fact that everything probably looks different from up there than down here so they’d all have to learn how to get where they’re going. And even whimsuns don’t fly during storms, so you would be constantly at the mercy of the weather.”

“Conscious of the weather? Yes. At the mercy of it? No,” Gaster huffed, “We can predict weather patterns for up to a week. And if there were some well-versed astrologers present with the companies, safe navigation across the skies would be child’s play.”

“Child’s play? Sure, if the child is playing with a broadsword,” Amathea laughed, flashing Grillby a broad grin that the elemental returned brightly, “Besides, most astrologers don’t want to risk their necks out here against humans.”

Gaster waved his hands dismissively, “Oh you two make such a fuss about little things that can be hammered out in the process. The _real_ problem is finding a way to make the wings and attach them. Wouldn’t that be a fun challenge to play around with?”

Grillby shrugged, “I can hardly think of new attacks, Gaster. I don’t think I could wrap my head around making monsters fly.”

“Now that’s just quitter talk.”

“Lad’s got a point, Gaster,” Amathea smiled, “All the magic I know I’ve been taught somehow or another. And even when I’ve tried I’ve never been too keen on making my own. Now Thetis, my sister, _she_ can create with that magic of hers! I bet if you two hit your heads together hard enough, you’d make a pair of wings eventually.”

Gaster let out a chuckle, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to say something, pausing when a commotion ahead of them grabbed all three of their attention. Grillby could hear shouting, and he leaned to look around the monsters nearby him to no avail. Gaster, a head taller than most everyone around them, leaned forward to scrutinize what was up ahead, and with a sharp frown took off in the direction of the noise. Grillby and Amathea exchanged a quick glance before the fish monster waved for the elemental to follow. The closer they got, the more Grillby could make out what the monsters ahead were shouting, and his flame pitched red with worry.

“-eed a healer! Someone who can use green! Please! We need help!”

No wonder Gaster had run when he had.

By the time Amathea and Grillby arrived, Gaster was already kneeling beside another doctor - a madjick whose face was already creased in a forlorn frown. He was pouring green magic into a dog monster that lay barely conscious on the ground, her hands clutching uselessly at a rip in her chest that oozed blood and dying magic. Grillby recognized her as one of the scouts that had been sent out when the groups the elemental and Gaster had been a part of came back in. Nearby her, shaky and half-panicked stood the scout who had been her partner, and who by the looks of the blood smeared across his uniform had dragged her back to safety.

Amathea was beside the monster immediately, leading him a few steps away from the girl and asking him questions in a low voice about where they’d gone and what had happened. She had to repeat herself several times before the monster could manage to answer, voice quivering somewhere between panic and shock.

Grillby stood off to the side of it all, watching with a kind of morbid and sickening curiosity as the Madjick doctor poured more and more green into the wound with little success. For every part of the dog monster that seemed to heal, the part beside it would unravel again. The wound opened and collapsed in on itself slowly, the fur and skin turning ashen and then to dust.

Gaster sucked in a quiet breath, “She’s falling.”

To this, the Madjick paused in its work, looking up at the skeleton and finally offering a grim nod. Green wasn’t going to work against this. The wound was too deep and the help too late.

“May I?”

It was phrased like a question, but from the way Gaster brushed the doctor’s hands to the side, it was obviously a command. With a crackle of magic and a flick of his wrists, Gaster pulled his soul from his chest, small and glowing and white. The skeleton muttered a quiet apology to the girl before calling forth her soul as well. Gaster scrutinized the two of them, watching with a bitter frown the cracks that spider-webbed themselves around the monster’s soul and deeper with every second she went without healing.

Then, with a small tug that sent a shudder through Gaster’s soul and a wince across the skeleton’s body, Grillby watched as a thread of magic unraveled itself from Gaster’s glowing heart and laced itself across to the girl’s. Gaster leaned over and worked diligently, eyes inches away from the girl’s soul as he filtered his own magic into the cracks of her being. And with a start Grillby realized the girl’s wound was healing, the ashen pieces that had begun to break away into dust reforming and solidifying themselves again as Gaster stitched her back together again from the very center of her soul.

Whatever magic Gaster was doing, Grillby had never seen it before - and neither had the doctor that now gaped beside the skeleton as he watched him work. It was slow and deliberate and painstaking, but it worked. Gaster worked in silence for several minutes, a constant wince on his face as he sewed together the broken soul. It put a strain on him. Grillby watched as the longer the skeleton worked the more his hands quivered, the more often he would have to pause to take a steadying breath and still his hands before resuming. Finally with a disgruntled huff he paused his work.

“I can’t do all this,” he muttered with a scowl, before his eyes flicked up to scrutinize Grillby who had unconsciously stepped forward to watch more closely the skeleton’s healing magic. Gaster eyed him thoughtfully for a moment, calculating something in his own head before beckoning the elemental closer.

“Grillby I need to borrow you.”

With a nod the elemental knelt down beside him, “Uh… what can I do?”

“Trust me when I tell you I know what I’m doing,” Gaster answered.

“I can do that.”

The skeleton gave Grillby one last scrutinizing glare before yanking his wrist and pulling the elemental’s soul free from its hiding place in the center of his core. The feeling that swept over Grillby was a lot like the soul-stifling feeling of blue, only much closer and tighter and much more disturbing. It sent a shudder through him, the unnatural pull sending a cold chill through his very core. Then Gaster was yanking harder, unraveling a single, molten thread of magic from Grillby’s shuddering soul and weaving it together with his own before getting back to work, stitching the dog monster back together.

It felt… strange - though also predictable, in a way. It felt very much like there was a string attached to the very center of Grillby’s soul, and someone was tugging on it constantly. And it felt uncomfortable, persistent and annoying. Grillby had to stifle the reflex to cup his hands protectively around the shuddering soul and push it gently back where it belonged. But he couldn’t do that, both for fear of it hurting the monster so reliant on him right now, and for fear of hurting himself.

 _Oh_ he hoped Gaster knew what he was doing!

With the newfound help from the thread from Grillby’s soul, Gaster worked with renewed vigor and speed. He stabilized what was left of the cracks in the monster’s soul, pausing once that was done to banish the cord that ran from his own soul into it and relaxing the moment the strain was taken off of him. Then with an apologetic frown in Grillby’s direction, he went on to work on the wound itself with only the thread from the fire elemental to sew it together with. The touch of Grillby’s magic started working immediately, sinking in and healing up a gruesome crack slashed in the monster’s collar bone from whatever it had been that’d hit her. Then the magic was woven into the tissues of the wound itself, pulling it together and closing it up and stopping the ooze of blood that had spread out across the girl’s chest.

 _Stars above_ that tugging was getting _more uncomfortable_ by the _second_.

But as Gaster stitched and sewed and wove the magic Grillby could see life returning to the monster, and he was grateful for every second of that wearying pulling and yanking on his soul. As the skeleton pulled the last pieces of the wound together, the dog monster opened her eyes. She blinked up at them with a mix of exhaustion and relief. Hardly looking up to notice her, Gaster finished his last few stitches before banishing the magic that held Grillby’s soul in its unnatural place. It was the most relieving feeling in the world for Grillby, feeling his soul sink back into his body and nestling itself in his core again. The elemental crackled a comfortable sigh.

Gaster was already back on his feet, helping the dog monster to stand slowly - the Madjick doctor steadying her as she swayed for a moment. Then the girl was off to her partner, barking and laughing excitedly as he hugged her and chattered excitedly about her being safe. Grillby moved to stand himself, but Gaster’s had on his shoulder stopped him.

“What?”

“Just take it slow,” Gaster said worriedly, “I took a lot of magic out of you.”

Grillby blinked up at him confusedly, “But I feel fine.”

Gaster barked a laugh, “Yeah, but you’re sitting down right now. I don’t need you passing out the minute you stand up.”

If Grillby had an eyebrow to raise, he would. Instead he humored Gaster by standing up slowly, crossing his arms smugly when nothing happened. Gaster raised the ridge above his unbroken eye, smiling.

“You’re not serious,” the skeleton chuckled, “You feel anything at all? Tired? Nauseous? Shaky?”

Grillby shrugged, “No. Well… my soul feels shaky but…”

The elemental glanced down at his chest as if he could see the thing there again, revealed and vulnerable outside of his body, “I think that’s just because… _that_ happened.”

Gaster paused for a moment before asking a bit hesitantly, “Did it hurt at all?”

“What? No,” Grillby sparked nervously, “Uh… was it supposed to?”

To this, Gaster could really only shrug, “Depends on who helps me, I guess. I’ve had assistants before who told me it was extremely painful. Others, said it was more like an itch, or a sting. Granted, they were stronger monsters and tended to have a higher LV as well.”

“Did it hurt _you_?”

Gaster grinned, “Doesn’t matter if it saved a life, does it?”

His face dropped to a more sober expression after a moment, “Though that was one hell of a wound, wasn’t it? Takes a lot of intent to make something like that.”

“Or a lot of magic,” Amathea interrupted, stepping over to the two as they spoke. She gave Gaster a proud smile.

“Thank you for that, by the way,” she said, resting a hand on his shoulder, “You did well.”

Gaster brushed her off as nonchalantly as he could manage past the prideful swell in his grin, “So what’s this about magic?”

“They managed to flounder their way into what’s left of the Adwick Stronghold,” Amathea elaborated, “It’s the remains of a fort the humans managed to erect a few years ago in this territory. There were a lot of magical traps set in the effort to keep it from falling. They stumbled into one when they got to close to one of the walls.”

Grillby blinked, a nervous flicker teasing his flame “Adwick Stronghold… that sounds familiar.”

“It should, to you at least,” Amathea hummed, “That’s where they killed Mistral, the storm elemental. It was the first elemental death in the war. Caused quite the drop in morale when it happened.”

She gave a thoughtful pause before sighing, “We should be in the shadow of it by nightfall, if we keep moving at a steady pace. As long as we don’t get too close to it, we should be safe. Though, I’d suggest warning the rest of the units to watch where they’re stepping from here on out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! I'm back! Thanks for bearing with me over my break guys.
> 
> And lookie here! You guys remember that teensy scene chapters ago when Gaster fixed up Grillby's hand? Looks like we finally get to see some of what that's all about! More to be explained later. A lot of what's going on with Gaster is going to be explained soon-ish.
> 
> Anywho! I'm really glad I finally got this chapter sorted out :'D I really needed to set this up for something that happens later. Well, a couple of things actually. And I kept coming up blank on how to establish this well for when it's used later.
> 
> In more exciting news: I might have a beta reader soon! WOOOO! A friend of mine is currently getting caught up with the chapters I have written up until this point, and is going through them and giving me edits (she's actually going to college right now to be an editor, so hopefully this will be good practice for her? Maybe? I dunno how that works actually hmm). When she gets caught up, she'll be helping me with continuity errors, as well as my aweful spelling/grammer. So you guys have that to look forward to! Hopefully you'll see an uptake in quality from me XD


	18. The Shadows of Adwick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we worry a bit about what's to come  
> And worry a little more about what's already happened

Evening brought them to the shadow of Adwick, and they pitched their tents and lit their fires in the shelter of its looming presence, just outside the furthest wall. Looking at it now, it was clear to Grillby that the fortress had once been a grand one - grand enough to use as a headquarters for the rest of the invasion the humans had planned, before the great battle that destroyed it was launched.

It had two walls, one long and snaking about its base - the one they camped beside now. It crumbled in dozens of places, great gaps and cracks in its cobbled surface tearing it into segmented pieces, marking the improvised entrances the monsters had made when they’d attempted to take the fort. The second wall was further in, tighter built and raised as the fort neared the crest of the small hill it had been built upon. This wall was very nearly blown outward on itself, whole portions of it knocked over as if it had been brushed aside by a sweeping hand. Small sections of the wall stood braced, somehow anchored well enough to withstand the catastrophe of the battle that had rocked it. The towers connected to these walls stood as well, though chunks were missing.

The only piece of the fortress still mostly intact was the keep, which sat in the very center of the fortress. It was hard to see it above the rubble and ruin of the rest of the structure, but with the glimpses that Grillby saw, he could tell it still stood. The only imperfection to mar its surface was a large, scorched crack that ripped through its side - a stroke from the devastating lightning conjured by a powerful elemental as she lay siege. From the ruin around the rest of the grounds, it was clear to see why the fort had been abandoned, even with most of the keep still intact. There was no way the walls could be rebuilt to their former strength, especially not with the war waging around it. Now the ruined structure stood solemn and dark against the dying light of the evening sky, a monolithic tombstone - a reminder that the devastation had in fact happened, and it had destroyed more than just wood, iron and stone.

An elemental had _died_ here.

That thought alone made Grillby twitchy and nervous. His fire couldn’t seem to cast itself out of a perpetual and sickening yellow-green hue. It made his core shiver, his soul flutter harshly around in his chest. He shouldn’t be surprised. He shouldn’t be affected this way. He _knew_ he was mortal. A little _less_ mortal than the other monsters around here, sure, but he always knew he could be killed. He always knew it was possible. But in the shadow of this castle, knowing it had been done before to someone like him - suddenly he felt much more fragile, much more real. It was unnerving.

It made him want to pace, to do something mindless to take his thoughts away from the sinister looking fortress that hovered over him like some sleeping behemoth. For lack of anything better to do - and to deter any nervous pacing that might consume him and disturb any other monsters near him - Grillby pulled out the sewing project he’d worked on several nights before, the one he had started for Gaster while still in the safety of his home camp. His hands shook annoyingly while he worked, his nerves doing their darndest to get the better of him. The extra challenge worked for him this once, though, forcing him to concentrate more on the task at hand and less on the creeping feeling of dread that was crawling around in his gut.

When night came, he couldn’t sleep.

Grillby gave it a valiant effort at least. He doused his flame down as cool as he could go, shifted through at least a dozen positions. He even tried humming quietly to himself, counting imaginary sheep. He must have laid there for hours trying, and never getting anywhere. His soul was too busy shuddering, making everything from his core outward feel unnatural and skittish. With a defeated sigh, Grillby finally gave up on sleep and wandered out to the nearest fire, settling on sitting there and staring forlornly at the ruined fortress as if winning some kind of staring contest with it would grant him sleep. The restlessness in his soul didn’t want him to keep still. He fidgeted and flickered and eventually paced.

Then, for no other reason than to give himself the slightest chance to calm his nerves, Grillby decided to walk to the fortress himself. It was dark of course - the moon was less than half full and could do little more than cast the world in washed out shades of blue and grey. But that’s where the convenience of being made of fire came into play. Grillby simply fanned himself brighter, filling the night around him with flickering whites and yellows.

He passed first through that snaking, segmented outer wall, stepping carefully and silently praying he didn’t set off any lurking, malign trap left behind after the battle. Even with the light he cast, it was hard to tell the difference between a decorative carving on the stone and a powered trap rune. Really he doubted they would hurt him much, he’d proven time and again he was mostly immune to the magic humans threw at him. But that nervousness in his soul hummed in a paranoid pitch at him anyway, and so he stepped lightly and he hoped with his whole being he didn’t stumble into something foul.

By his luck, he managed to pass by the inner wall unharmed, clamoring over the haphazard stonework that was strewn about the ground. There were other things here as well, more obvious remains of the battle. Broken pieces of metal likely from shattered swords, discarded pieces of armor, possibly even bone, remains that had been missed in the scuffle and the rush to safety. It was grim, but these were things that Grillby was more or less used to seeing. As he stumbled into the courtyard that held the keep, they bothered him little.

Adwick’s keep stood before him now, cracked but whole and foreboding. The stone structure was much more intimidating with Grillby standing like a tiny, flickering spark against it. The fire elemental approached it slowly, fire dimming slightly and pitching into even more nervous hues the closer he got. He ignored the cold battlements for now, the shattered opening into the gatehouse of the keep that more than likely ran up to its roof. He ignored the sounds of his reverberating footsteps as they echoed back at him across the ruins of the courtyard, or the scuffle of ruined cobble as it cracked against his feet. Instead he crept straight over to the ruined keep wall, staring up at the ominous crack that had threatened to split the building in two.

The crack itself ran all the way down from the top of the keep to the ground, making it’s ragged and zig-zagging path all the way down the side of the wall. The energy of it had burst cobbles from the wall itself, making larger gaps and cracks along its path. One the ground at the base of the wall, scorches ran out in twisting patterns as the heat from the lightning strike that had caused the damage dispersed itself into the ground. It was hard to believe any creature that could cause this could ever die. Grillby reached out a hand to the wall, feeling the cold surface and giving a crackling sigh.

_An elemental died here._

A shift in the rubble nearby snapped Grillby’s attention away from the wall, and he spun to face the noise. He gave a relieved spark when he saw Gaster ambling towards him. The skeleton signed to him across the distance as he approached, his voice distorting as it bounced around the broken courtyard.

“I did that on purpose, just so you know,” he said, a shaky laugh in his voice, “I don’t need you stumbling into a trap just because I scared you stiff.”

Grillby chuckled back, “I appreciate it.”

The skeleton stopped beside him, craning his neck up to look at the battered wall and letting out a low whistle through his teeth, “That’s impressive. Lightning?”

“Mistral of the Storm,” Grillby corrected, “I’ve heard she was one of the most powerful elementals ever summoned. Though, I guess any monster than can summon lightning is going to be impressive.”

There was a pause between them where Gaster stared up at the twisting strike with those hungrily curious eyes of his, and Grillby stood thoughtfully. Wordlessly, Grillby turned to make his way towards the keep, Gaster following behind him as he picked his way through the rubble.

“You know, Ammy’s gonna kill us if we spring a trap out here,” Gaster mused, gaining only silence in reply, “Not that I don’t care for exploring. Trust me, I could adventure anywhere for days! But I tend to enjoy the adventuring of the non-death-y type, if you catch my drift?”

Grillby nodded absentmindedly but didn’t answer. He meandered his way into the keep, blinking about for a staircase and finally finding one built into the wall ahead. The keep was eerily empty inside, all echoes and shadows and creeping silence. The air was cooler too, and a stifling sort of damp that teased the elemental’s flame into something a little more molten.  It felt claustrophobic inside, what with the skulking darkness and the stoic walls. Grillby was used to canvas tents and open skies. The oppressive walls were eerie to him, and sent a crawling feeling through his core. But he wanted to reach the top of the keep, so he continued forward, stoking himself brighter in a brave attempt to stave off the gloom that seemed to pulse around him.

“ _Grillby_ ,” Gaster hissed in a whisper as he followed after, “We should go back. Firefly are you even listening to me?”

Finally the elemental cracked a laugh back at him, stepping on the bottom most stair and looking up at the climb above him, “Aren’t _you_ supposed to be the one flinging us headlong into bad ideas?”

“My bad ideas don’t involve death traps,” the skeleton pointed out, huddling closer to Grillby as the elemental continued upwards, “You saw that poor scout earlier. And she had all that awesome muscle and armor in the way to take some of the hit. I’m a skeleton with light chainmail and doctor’s robes.”

“And that’s why I’m walking in front.”

“Oh please,” Gaster snorted, “Sure you absorb magic but if something goes shooting out of a wall it’ll still rip you in half!”

Grillby shrugged, “I doubt it’ll rip me in half. I’m pretty molten on the inside so it’ll go right through me.”

“This still doesn’t help _me_ ,” came the bitter response.

There was a pause between them where they ascended several more steps and emerged at last onto the stone roof of the keep structure. The rush of fresh air sent a brighter color through Grillby’s flame, and the elemental gave a sigh of relief. He stepped towards the ledge, looking out at the distance he’d walked and the spark-like lights of the camp they’d left behind. The horizon rolled out around him, rocking and diving with every hill and smattered with forest.

“Grillby?”

The elemental glanced back over his shoulder to Gaster, who still hadn’t moved far from the stairs.

“Why are we up here?”

Grillby shrugged, sitting down where he’d stood, “Couldn’t sleep. And I didn’t feel like pacing around camp.”

“And so obviously if you’re not going to pace in camp, you _have_ to brave a castle death maze?”

Grillby crackled a soft laugh, “Obviously.”

Gaster crossed over to join him, sinking down onto the cold stonework. His hands fidgeted through a few questions before he finally picked one to voice aloud, “It’s not because of the soul thing today, is it?”

The elemental shook his head, a smile in his voice, “Of course not. What you did today was awesome. I’m just… nervous.”

“Okay,” Gaster hummed, “Nervous about what?”

Grillby huffed a sigh, a puff of smoke snaking through the air around his face, “I don’t know. Well… I _do_ know. I just don’t know why it’s bothering me as much as it is.”

He ran a hand across the top of his head anxiously, ruffling the flame that billowed off him, “An elemental died here. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Oh.”

“They told me a lot about her you know,” the elemental continued quietly, “The monsters who trained me. Not so much Gerson - I guess he realized it got to me. But she was the example you know? Why you only ever take on _one_ human mage at a time. Everyone knows they’re powerful. I mean, all humans are but… they just have this knack for causing mayhem when two or three of them are gathered together. _Especially_ when they’re desperate.”

Grillby sighed, “The battle here, Mistral should have won it. She broke the monsters through both the walls, caused that crack in the keep. But when she rose to the top to approach the mages, they used some kind of powerful magic. They used their _souls,_ they died trying but they still managed it. They conjured up a storm with winds so fierce it tore her apart. She couldn’t keep her form anymore. She was literally ripped apart by her own element. And even after that, it blew apart the walls, killed monsters and humans alike. Nobody won this battle.”

The elemental shuddered, “I can’t… I can’t even imagine what that must have been like. How much it would hurt to be torn apart from your very core like she was, like so many of them were.”

He crackled a harsh sigh, “And… that’s my fate if a human ever decides they can do it. I don’t have to think about this stuff often you know? I’m not like normal monsters, I don’t have to worry about getting stabbed in the back or taking an arrow in the wrong place or even getting struck by angry magic. But if a human decides to kill me, no matter what it takes to manage it, they will. That’s… that’s terrifying to me, that something could be _that_ determined to end my life.”

Gaster nodded quietly, waiting for the elemental to finish. When he was he didn’t know how to comfort him. There was nothing he could really say, and nothing that Grillby expected him to say.

“Did I wake you up when I left?” Grillby finally broke the silence, “I’m sorry if I did.”

“Not at all,” the skeleton replied with a bitter smirk, “Nightmares and all that.”

“Right. You’ve been having those a lot lately.”

Gaster nodded solemnly, a frown transfixing itself across his face. He opened his mouth twice to speak, hands working hesitantly to form something to say.

“Grillby you’ve fought a lot of humans, right?”

“Probably hundreds at this point.”

“And… they do some crazy stuff sometimes, right? Stuff that’s unexplainable even?”

“...yes?”

The skeleton gave a quiet nod, frowning a little deeper as he considered something. His fingers twitched, stifling the impulse to sign his thoughts outloud. He looked like he was on the verge of saying something, but for several minutes all he could manage was a stiff sigh and a could of awkward half-signs.

“Well this has got to be good if it makes _you_ speechless,” Grillby joked with a good-natured flicker.

Gaster smiled down at his fidgeting hands for a moment, though it very quickly disappeared as he finally looked up at Grillby.

He set his face in a grim frown as he asked, “Have you ever killed a human and… somehow they just… _came back_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *loud screeching noises*  
> I've been waiting for this scene
> 
> Also this was like, part of the next chapter as an entire scene, but it was over 4000 words and it wasn't done yet (still isn't), so I decided to tear it in half /profuse shrugging/ I hope you guys don't mind!


	19. Stories on the Death Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some backstory is learned, along with a few other things

It took a moment for Grillby to fully process the question - and realize it was a serious one. Coming back to life? What? That wasn’t a thing, was it? Well, not a _real_ thing at least. He’d heard smattered tales before about corpses coming back to life - but normally even humans talked about those things with some sort of disregard. Unless he was talking about ghosts or…?

The elemental blinked at Gaster for a moment uncomprehendingly, “Uh… explain?”

Gaster gave a sharp sigh, “Don’t judge me firefly.”

The Grillby chuckled quietly to this, but when he realized Gaster was serious he gave a firm nod, “I won’t judge.”

Gaster twiddled his thumbs nervously for a few long seconds, building up some sort of courage to continue talking about what he’d started. Grillby waited patiently.

“I just… this has been bothering me for a long time,” Gaster finally muttered, “And… it’s a long story anyway.”

Grillby waved a hand in the general direction of the horizon - which was still dark and showed no signs of morning, “I literally have all night.”

The skeleton nodded, frowning down at his nervously twitching hands as he continued to fidget. Then the fidgeting turned into signing. And after a few rounds of signs that Grillby had some trouble recognizing, Gaster started speaking.

“So earlier today, that healing trick I did. Right, that wasn’t exactly normal healing magic. It’s something I came across after a lot of study into how souls work. It’s actually pretty interesting, the magical theory behind it. It has to do with the transfer of magic from a greater soul to a lesser soul, a bit like how water likes to run from a shallow pool into a river? But you have to break the wall of the soul to let the stream flow, that’s the thread there that I pull out. And it fits into wounded souls so easily anyway, since the walls are already shattering. It takes magic out of the sharing soul, so you have to be careful you don’t start damaging yourself - losing HP and things like that.”

The skeleton chuckled quietly to himself, “I’d… leave that out but it’ll help you understand a few things later involving… erm… well... anyway, a couple years ago now, when I first discovered it could stop a monster from falling down, I approached the local military about becoming an improvised sort of healer. I was sent to a refugee camp to work as a doctor for monsters fleeing the fighting in the north as they worked their way south to Mt. Ebott. There I helped stabilize those fallen down, as well as the severely wounded, with the magic from my own soul as well as the magic from a few assistants of mine.”

“As the fighting progressed south, our camp came into the line of fire. With so many wounded, we were unable to move quickly. There was a general nearby who was sent in with a few companies to help keep back the fighting while we did our best to get mobile. That… was horrendous.”

Gaster sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly as if he could stamp out whatever memory he was being forced to conjure up, “The fighting made it into the camp. And there was a human…”

Gaster blinked down at his hands, face scrunching up as best it could into a confused frown, “They weren’t a mage, I don’t think. They never used any magic that I saw. But they fought continuously, like they was half dead or half gone. No expression, blank stare, like their soul wasn’t rightly there. They went against the general first - I saw it from the infirmary tent. Heh, I was hiding I guess. Hoping nobody stumbled inside so I wouldn’t have to defend myself, or the wounded with me. And I watched the human die.”

Gaster hesitated for a moment, flashing Grillby a nervous sort of half-smile, “This is where the ‘don’t judge me’ part comes in, firefly.”

The elemental nodded.

“One of my patients called out for me, and I turned away for just a moment to help them. And then… something happened. It was like my whole body twitched, but more than that. _Everything_ twitched. And when I looked back outside the general was collapsing into dust and that human was still very much alive. And they were walking towards me.”

Gaster let out a dry laugh, “I’d never been so scared in my life. They just… stared. They didn’t speak even though I kept babbling things at them. Telling them I was a doctor. Telling them to have mercy. There were sick and dying there. They didn’t need to do this. We shouldn’t be fighting. And they just looked right through me with this… vacant expression. Like I wasn’t even there. And I fought back as much as I could. Grillby, I killed them. _I killed them twice_. And just like with the general everything seemed to twitch. The _entire world_ twitched. And they were back, halfway through a sword stroke that I didn’t see coming because they weren’t _there_ a second ago they were _dead_ and bleeding everywhere and-”

The skeleton let out an exasperated sort of sigh that rattled itself into a growl in his chest, his signing becoming shaky and frenetic as he spoke, “I would’ve died. _Should’ve_ died. But one of my patients-”

Gaster laughed, “You would never guess who. A poor girl who’d lost her arm in battle and had spent the last week delirious with fever and hardly conscious in bed. _Amathea_. Before they could dust me, she grabbed their soul with green. Just for a second before I think she lost consciousness again. But it gave me enough time to knock them over, pin their hands to the ground with a couple of bone attacks. And… I don’t know. It occurred to me that human souls were so strong, maybe that’s why _this one_ wouldn’t die. So I dragged their soul out and I started tearing it apart using that same magic that I normally use to help people.”

Gaster paused again, face wrinkling into something confused and frowning, “It was so… _red_. I’ve seen a handful of human souls shatter - hard not to given the fact that this is _war_. I’ve seen flashes of color from a lot of them them. But they’re always so pale, almost white. And never red. I’ve seen blue and yellow and green before. But red was new. And I remember there was so much of it. I was grabbing handfuls of that soulstuff and ripping it apart and still it took forever to finally break their soul. And the entire time they were thrashing around, kicking and screaming and shouting threats and finally crying and begging. But by that point there wasn’t much of them left anymore. I couldn’t have healed them up again even if I’d wanted to.”

“Obviously that kind of mess doesn’t stay quiet…” the skeleton fixed a bitter sort of half-smile on his face, “I’ve got humans who believe I’m going to steal their souls, and monsters who think I could use something like this as a weapon. But I don’t know enough about it yet to teach it to anyone, and I’ve been too busy dodging humans to prove either side right or wrong.”

Gaster trailed off, falling thoughtfully silent for several long minutes. He’d stopped fidgeting, his hands had gone still. And Grillby waited patiently for whenever he started again. The entire story sounded horrifying. A human coming back to life? And worse yet one so determined to kill. A human so warped up and violent even their _soul_ was wrong. Grillby gave a shudder. And how painful it must have been to be torn apart from the very soul.

“So, back to the earlier question,” Gaster said quietly, “Have you ever fought a human like that? One that just wouldn’t die?”

“No.”

The skeleton paused before asking, “Do you think I’m crazy? That I was just… seeing things?”

For once, Grillby was very happy he didn’t have facial features. He cleared his throat and said in as deadpan a voice as he could manage, “Oh no, you’re absolutely insane. Classic case of mania right here.”

Gaster rolled his eyes, managing a small grin. Grillby gave a good-natured laugh, and then a sigh. He reached out hesitantly to give Gaster a reassuring - if slightly awkward - pat on the back.

“I think if you saw a human come back, you saw a human come back,” the elemental said, “Humans are difficult. They do impossible things and they shouldn’t be able to. I’ve seen them cut through entire units while suffering from deadly wounds, or poked so through with arrows they could have been a pin-pillow. I’ve watched them recover from poison and electrical attacks. Saw them manifest magic even though they’ve obviously never used magic before. I’ve watched their souls persist after their bodies have been burned to ash, sometimes waiting for minutes or hours before finally succumbing to whatever afterlife they’re sent to. It doesn’t surprise me that you would find one that just… decided it wouldn’t die.”

Beside him, Grillby could feel Gaster nearly slump over with relief. He heaved a world-weary sigh, resting his head in his hands and blinking tiredly out across the horizon.

“Good to know,” he murmured.

“... is that what you’re nightmares are about?” Grillby hummed quietly, “About fighting that human again?”

To this, Gaster shrugged. He tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice cracked somewhere once or twice as he spoke, and Grillby knew it bothered him.

“Less the human and more the soul-ripping part,” the skeleton mumbled, his gaze rooted steadfastly on the stone roof they sat on, “Sometimes it’s still the human there, screaming at me. Sometimes I’ve done it to myself - those ones are always interesting. A little easier to detach myself from, I think. Sometimes it’s people I know…”

He barked a quiet, bitter laugh and flashed Grillby a side-long glance, “I’ve... never really gotten used to those. But I can’t rationalize it enough to make it stop, so I try to get over it as quickly as I can when I wake.”

“Isn’t there something you can do about that?” Grillby asked, “Some herb you can take to help you sleep or-”

Gaster was already shaking his head, “Help you sleep yes. There’s lots you can do for that. My problem isn’t sleeping. It’s the dreaming bit that gets nasty. I’ve heard woundwort and rosemary are supposed to help but I’ve tried it before and I’ve yet to see results. Besides, it’s too hard to find and keep on hand during all this fleeing and fighting. Maybe if I were holed up in a fortress somewhere, or one of the larger cities by the mountains. But since I’m out here…”

The skeleton splayed his hands out in front of him in a helpless sort of motion, “I have to make do.”

“Is that what the meditation is?” Grillby pressed, “Making do?”

Gaster chuckled, smiling a little wider, “Wow Grillby, are you feeling ill? Wild hijinks up a magical tower _and_ asking a bunch of questions? Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

The elemental let out a flustered crackle, “I mean if you don’t want-”

Gaster was already waving his hands at him, shushing Grillby in his own eccentric way, “You’re _fine_ , I’m just teasing. Yes, the meditation stuff just helps me relax and get some rest. It doesn’t replace sleep by a long shot, but it helps make things a little more bearable. And it calms everything down a bit.”

The skeleton grinned, “That’s why I think you should try it. Maybe if you had a few minutes of feeling comfortable in your skin, you’d be a little less nervous.”

Well, it _sounded_ nice at least. And Grillby had to admit whenever he’d seen Gaster wake up from a nightmare, he seemed much better after a few minutes of just… sitting. And he felt a little guilty now that the skeleton had followed Grillby all the way out here instead of doing that one thing he probably _needed_ to do. Maybe he could…

“Could you teach me how?”

Gaster laughed incredulously, “What, here? _Right now?_ ” he ushered about them, “On top of a death tower?”

Grillby sparked as he laughed back, “Heavens above! Gaster, I will _carry you_ back to camp if you’re so worried about traps. Besides, we’re not moving anywhere. We can’t spring something by sitting and talking.”

The skeleton chuckled, signing happily, “I will hold you to that firefly, don’t tempt me. Alright, fine. It’s not that complicated a thing to do anyway. Just… make yourself comfortable we’re going to be here for a bit.”

Grillby did as he was told, situating himself as comfortably as he could on the cool stone they rested on. Meanwhile Gaster settled into a very practiced position, sitting cross-legged with his back fairly straight, arms resting limply in his lap.

“Okay, so the point of meditation,” Gaster said, “As far as I’ve been learned anyway, is quieting your thoughts down enough to find some peace - or if you’re religious, enlightenment. But we’re not going there yet. So you’re going to focus on not thinking about things.”

In spite of himself, Grillby chuckled, “Easier said than done, I think.”

“Well yeah, for _you_ ,” Gaster grinned back, “You always worrying about _something_. But you’re not going to do that now. Just, focus on breathing. Whenever you start thinking about something, go back to concentrating on your breathing. And don’t fall asleep.”

This dragged another laugh from Grillby before the pair of them lapsed into silence. Grillby watched as Gaster closed his eye sockets, a deep sigh rattling his ribcage as he sat. Grillby observed the skeleton for a few moments, waiting for some sort of revolutionary thing to happen before finally mirroring that same sigh and closing his eyes as well. It was strange to him to be so still without dimming his flame to prepare for some sort of sleep. His body felt restless because of it, and his mind wanted to wander. But when it did, Grillby did his best to recenter himself back on his own breathing, focusing on the slow in-and-out motion.

He became conscious of how his legs were folded beneath him, and how they were starting to stiffen. Conscious of how his arms were positioned and how unnatural it seemed to feel now that he was suddenly aware of it. He could feel his fire as it flickered faintly in the breeze, pieces of it sparking away to vanish into the night without his magic to sustain it. He could feel his core, molten and fluid shifting around just beneath the surface of the flame that encased his body. He could feel his soul in his chest, not exactly pulsing, but radiating magic to the rest of his body in a steady, vibration-like hum.

He could have stopped existing, or maybe existed a little less. And, somehow, he realized that feeling wasn’t a new one. In fact, it was warm and teasingly familiar, yanking at the edge of his mind like some kind of distant memory. A floating feeling, light and soft and quiet that crept across his soul and made him feel like he was moving even when he wasn’t. It wanted to encompass him, to take over his senses but there wasn’t enough of it there for that. There needed to be more. He needed to be somewhere else for this. He needed-

Grillby blinked his eyes open when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. Gaster was peering curiously at him, a smile on his face and the lights of his eyes bright with wonder. Slowly, the elemental realized the light bouncing off the skeleton’s pale face wasn’t yellow or orange like it should be, like the color he normally was. In fact, it wasn’t any single color Grillby knew he could make. The elemental dropped his gaze down to his arms, blinking down at them in surprise when he realized just about every color he ever knew himself to be was rippling through them, molten and churning as it flowed slowly down and away from his soul. Of course, as soon as his surprise took over, the colors quickly faded into yellows and greens again. In just a handful of seconds he was normal.

And very much wondering how in the _world_ he’d managed to do that.

“Well, that sure was… something,” Grillby finally managed after and awkward and confused pause. Gaster laughed.

“That was something? That was something _beautiful_ is what it was,” he said, signing quickly in his excitement, “ _That_ is what you were doing the first time you were showing me those sparring sets.”

Grillby looked down at his hands again, as if he could magically make that colorful rippling reappear.

“What were you thinking then?” Gaster asked, “When you were doing that? What was going on?”

“I… nothing,” Grillby murmured, “I just started feeling like… well like I’d done this before?”

What did the skeleton expect him to say? Grillby was at least ten times as confused as Gaster was, and he was the one who actually did it - whatever _it_ was. Though Gaster was right. It _had_ been pretty.

“Maybe I’ll try this again sometime,” the elemental said after a pause.

“Well of course you will!” Gaster grinned, slowly getting to his feet, “Now you’ve got me curious. I get that it’s probably nothing, but it’s a _cool_ nothing, so I _need_ to know about it.”

He offered a hand to Grillby, which the elemental took gratefully, “C’mon, let’s get back to camp.”

Gaster took a few steps, paused, and then turned back to the elemental, “So, how did you want to carry me then?”

Grillby groaned, rolling his eyes as best he could manage, “Oh _come on_ Gaster. I swear nothing’s going to bite you on the way down the stairs.”

The skeleton grinned at him, “I told you I was gonna hold you to it, didn’t I? So, how are we doing this? I could hop on your shoulders. Piggyback ride? Then there’s always bridal style-”

“Or I could throw you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Wouldn’t _that_ be a glorious sight back at camp?” Grillby quipped with a crackle of a laugh, “Besides you’re taller than me. Carrying you is just going to be awkward.”

“Well then you shouldn’t have said anything,” the skeleton responded with a stubborn grin, arms crossed childishly, “Now come on. Be a hero and save the skeleton from the evil human death tower.”

After a few more sighs and eye-rolls and groans, Gaster finally ended up on Grillby’s back, boney arms wrapped around his molten neck and lanky knees tucked under the elemental’s arms. They probably looked ridiculous with Grillby picking his way slowly down the stairs, trying to balance his awkward burden in such a way that neither of them went tumbling. And all the while Gaster narrated their descent, praising the ‘brave hero’ who ‘single-handedly stormed the evil human fort’ and ‘rescued the incredibly awesome and totally-could’ve-saved-himself-if-he-weren’t-so-lazy skeleton warrior’. He even threw in a few imaginary mage fights for dramatic effect, making whooshing fire noises and fake explosion sounds. The elemental would be lying if he didn’t say he was laughing the entire walk out to the wall. He did manage to drop Gaster off his back before they actually walked _into_ camp - he had to save at least a teensy bit of his pride. Both monsters collapsed beside the fire closest to their tent, Grillby stretching out on the ground close to the comforting, crackling little blaze and Gaster settling beside him.

As Grillby closed his eyes and dimmed his flame, he gave a small smirk in Gaster’s direction, “Thanks for following me up there, Gaster.”

The skeleton grinned, “Don’t mention it firefly.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how badly I wish I could've kept this chapter and the last chapter in the same update. But by the end of the scene I was 6200 words in, and that's while leaving out something I wanted to add! Plust this was a pretty slow(ish) part (there was no epic fighting scenes that needed to be in one piece) so I decided to cut it in half. Might go back and write that mini scene that I cut out later as a short, since it was kinda funny and I liked it. //profuse shrugging//
> 
> barking spiders the next scene is kicking my butt jeez i really should've established some magical rules before now //loud screeching//
> 
> Also something mildly important:  
>  I've gotten a couple questions scattered across accounts (I post this story in 3 different places whoops) about whether this is going to be a Grillster/ship fanfiction. And I'm giving you the heads-up now that it's not. I do love the ship (obviously)! It's just, when I started this story I had no plans for it. Just for them to become close friends. There won't be any romantic love between them. So sorry to disappoint on that front! (Or your welcome for the relief, depending on how your opinion towards that kind of thing goes). But! Feel free to read for yourself some subtext if the ship is your ship ahaha


	20. The Battle's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have a problem  
> And Gaster thinks he's clever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart Update: Had a couple more very beautiful pieces drawn for this story (might have cried a little bit when I saw them ahaha).
> 
> http://gamerselkie.deviantart.com/art/It-smells-like-creamatory-612175717  
> http://cigdolsid.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-2-612967726  
> http://cigdolsid.deviantart.com/art/Wartime-Grillby-613245810

The remainder of their journey was mostly - thankfully - uneventful as they traveled towards their destination. Grillby and Gaster were continually stuck with scouting and foraging duties - per Amathea's punishment for their brawling - but as they neared the camp they were to be stationed at, their training schedule all but halted. The commander spent less and less time with them, and more and more time with the other commanders of the units as they hazarded to plan their next movements upon entering the camp they were destined for. Amathea agonized over battle plans and orders, cross-referencing all the information she could get her hands on and calculating their best opportunity for survival. She hardly had time to eat or sleep, she was pouring over so much information.

That was another thing Grillby had come to notice as they traveled - there was a noticeable increase in intelligence officers wraithing their way through the camps at night. Apparently something big was in the works, the thought of which made him _extremely_ nervous. It was always hard to notice them - most of the monster intelligence force were ghosts after all, and excellent at blending into their environments. When noticed, Grillby would hardly be able to glance them from the corners of his eyes as they wafted to and fro, whispering in harsh voices about enemy movements and ally movements alike, pausing only to magically salute each other should two meet. The elemental recognized a few of them from previous ventures of his, but they were always too busy to speak with him directly, and he didn't mind it. Whatever news they had for him would never be good anyway. And while he tried not to hold grudges against them for it, it was still hard to see them as anything other than bringers of some sort of misfortune, either for himself or someone else.

They were two nights out from the camp they'd been ordered to before Amathea finally approached her little unit about the affairs she'd been discussing, and when she sat them down she had the grimmest of frowns and sternest of glances. She'd let them eat supper first, and settled them around their campfire, tapping her foot nervously and twitching her ear frills with pent-up energy. It was hard to shake off the sense of dread building in the air with her glaring absently at both nothing and everything at the same time.

Gaster finally cleared his throat and grabbed her attention, "So uh… don't mean to be rude here but I think you might be scaring people with that snarl you've got going there."

"Good," she responded mildly, "You should be scared."

Grillby and Gaster exchanged a glance.

"So," Amathea sighed, "You already know the only reason these units are moving is because they spotted a pair of mages out here, and tinderbox here is our best bet of killing them before they make havoc of anyone else."

Both Grillby and Gaster nodded, Grillby's flame pitching into more nervous hues as he did so. The fish monster huffed out a breath, ear frills twitching as her mouth twisted into a bitter frown.

"Alright, I'm hesitant to call this bad news lads, but I'll admit it definitely isn't good," she said finally, "First bit of news is we're not being posted at the destination camp like we'd planned before. We're picking up reinforcements, and we'll be heading back out the next morning for our _new_ destination. There's a small army of horsemen to the north, and we're to be intercepting them."

Gaster's whole body frowned, pitching into deeper hues of red and orange, "That's a pretty short notice change. What's the rush?"

Gaster signed a worried agreement beside him.

"Simply put, we don't know where the mages are," Amathea explained, gills flaring in a frustrated huff, "We've had eyes out for weeks, but for the life of us we can't pin them down. From what we've managed to find, it seems the humans aren't keeping them stationed with a single unit. Instead they're moving them about to the largest threat to their advance. Ingenious planning really. Two men on swift horses can cover more ground than a small army with supply trains in tow. And if we can't pin them down, we can't send monsters like Grillby out to their location. We've lost ground over this, and several units as well. A right illusive pain in the tail these magicians are making themselves out to be. So if we want to get tinderbox within shouting distance of the damn things, we need to give them something to shout about first."

Grillby gave a nervous flicker, his soul suddenly feeling queasy. Gaster raised the bony ridge above his unbroken eye, face twisting into a quizzical frown, "And what exactly are we supposed to do to get their attention?"

"Well, the plan so far mostly involves taking a hammer against an anvil, so to speak. They want to approach for a full engagement, and then have tinderbox here break the charge when it comes for us. Horses are pretty panicky creatures when faced with a lot of fire and noise. If we can break their momentum and scatter them out, we can tear apart the whole unit before they can regroup for a full attack. They figure if we can tear apart a unit like that, we'll be getting a good bit of attention," she cast a meaningful stare in Grillby's direction, and the elemental felt another nervous twinge run through him, "Especially when they learn an elemental was the one who managed it."

Grillby sputtered, sparks breaking away from him and shattering apprehensively against the night breeze, "Surely they don't expect me to be able to take out an entire army by myself! Even I have limits on magic. And if I exhaust myself I'll be no use against a bunch of mages anyway!"

Amathea splayed her hand out in a helpless gesture, "We've talked about this long and hard tinderbox. This is the best way to get their attention without losing a bunch of lives in the process. Obviously we're preparing for an engagement. The units we're picking up at the base camp are pikemen - they'll be good against the horses should the charge go through unbroken. But we're still leaning on your firepower to take out the bulk of the force."

"And what if I _can't_?! You need more than just _me._ You need another elemental, maybe two. You'd need a monster twice as strong as me at least!"

Amathea shook her head, "Grillby you're the only elemental here for leagues, we don't have the time to transfer another. And trust me when I say _you'll do._ You're thinking too small lad, _way_ too small."

She waited a moment for the elemental to calm down his nervous sputtering before continuing, "You remember when I was teaching you about the different attacks I wanted you to learn? Specifically the shield. I told you a story about the fire elemental I knew years back who ate a whole forest to raise his strength."

The fish monster raised her eyebrows at the elemental, "Now do me a favor and think _that_ big for a minute."

Grillby's gaze dropped to the ground between his knees. Oh. Well. That's. A bad idea, is what that is. Or, a really _good_ idea, _maybe_ , if he could even handle it. But…

"Ammy, I have _no idea_ how to do that," he said finally, "I've never had to try before. I don't even know where to start figuring it out."

Amathea opened her mouth to speak, but Gaster cut off what she was going to say.

"I mean, it can't be _that_ hard to figure out, right?" the skeleton asked with a smirk in Grillby's direction, "That's just a matter of intent, it sounds like."

This earned him a pair of vacant stares, which the skeleton returned with a slow forming grin. Grillby was at a complete loss. Intent? Didn't intent have to do with damage and force when it came to magic? That's all he'd ever heard it used for, at least. Though, he also never thought too deeply into how magic worked or why, while Gaster did. He supposed if anyone could figure out how this new kind of magic worked, it would probably be Gaster. And the skeleton was already explaining, hands moving slowly as he organized his thoughts into words.

"Intent is the driving force behind magic," the skeleton hummed, "We know we can safely spar together because we have no intent to kill. Our hits are already softened for us. On the same hand, that's how a monster's damage can jump up so high in battle - because we _want_ to kill something. Intent applies to colored attacks as well. I know for blue, it's the intent to hinder your opponent. And if you have enough intent behind it you can actually hold the soul and toss it places, as opposed to simply weighing it down."

"Sure," Grillby huffed, sparks dancing around him exasperatedly, "But fire isn't magic - normal fire, at least. And it doesn't have a soul."

"And blue can pick up objects without a soul," Gaster pointed out, before turning to Amathea, "Give us a bit, Ammy. I'm sure we can figure this out."

Grillby could've smacked Gaster. How could he be so _sure_? He wasn't the one who had to pull this off, Grillby was. And Grillby was pretty sure he couldn't do this. He was hardly wrapping his head around what Gaster was saying already! But Amathea was already nodding, eyes sparkling with relief. And then she was leaving, off to relay the information to the other commanders and make preparations. Grillby couldn't do much more than give Gaster a withering glare, his whole body flickering in a frown. The skeleton flashed him a toothy grin.

"Oh don't look at me like that, firefly. You can figure this out. It's just work with intent."

"I hope you're right, Gaster," the elemental huffed a smoky sigh, "Because if you're not…!"

"I'm right," Gaster said firmly, smile not wavering for a second, "Now come on. Let's get you started."

* * *

"Gaster, you're insane."

"Well look at the bright side firefly, at least you're finally _in your element_."

It turned out Gaster's grand master plan for figuring this new magic out had actually been quite simple - and also quite humiliating from Grillby's point of view. He cleared out the little rock circle that served as their firepit and ordered the elemental to sit in the middle. Then he'd spent the next hour collecting firewood - stacking some neatly around the fire monster and piling the rest to the side where it could be used later. Then the wood was lit, and Grillby sat in the middle of the burning mass, his own fire peaking into different self-conscious hues as passing monsters gave him strange looks and stares.

"So? How's it feel?" Gaster prompted with a smirk, "Feel like an all-powerful super-being yet?"

"No," came the half-pout of a reply, "I just feel ridiculous… and kinda warm I guess."

"Is that all?"

"I mean, I don't _normally_ feel warm," Grillby pointed out, "I've only really ever felt cold before, or normal. So uh… I guess it's probably _really_ hot in here?"

Gaster raised the ridge above his unbroken eye, "Seriously? Nothing else?"

"Can I get out now?"

The skeleton chuckled, "You've been in there for like… ten seconds Grillby."

"This is boring. And dumb. Mostly dumb."

These comments Gaster ignored, the skeleton choosing instead to pace around Grillby for a few minutes. He signed to himself, organizing his thoughts and observing. The elemental twiddled his thumbs and waited, wondering what it was exactly he was supposed to _do_. It did feel comforting in the fire, protected and warm, in a way. Even past the worry in his soul he felt as if the space around him was soothing, impervious to the world outside his cocoon of fiery safety. But even here amongst it, he still felt apart from it. He was his own entity, and the fire burning around him was a part of something else. They weren't connected, which meant Grillby couldn't absorb it or gain anything from it. They were just existing in the same space.

Gaster stopped his circling, "Alright firefly, here comes the tricky part."

"You mean the part neither of us has figured out yet," the elemental snorted.

Gaster flashed him a long suffering smile.

"The part only _one_ of us hasn't figured out yet," he corrected as he settled down in front of Grillby, sitting rather smugly a few inches away from the campfire, "I already know this is possible. Intent is a mind over matter sort of thing. Once you get it, you'll never believe you couldn't do it in the first place. That's how I taught myself how to use blue. Well… that and some soul fiddling. But this whole fire business is just an extension of being; it's not nearly so complicated as learning a whole new type of magic."

Grillby offered a resigned sigh in return before turning his concentration back to the fire around him. He still didn't really understand how this was supposed to work. There was probably some sort of science involved that Gaster knew that made something like this so easy for him to understand. Gaster was good at that sort of thing - obviously, since he'd made a whole new type of magic all by himself! Meanwhile Grillby barely understood how his own body worked.

"Just relax, Grillby, and try not to overthink anything," Gaster chuckled, "Here, try this."

The skeleton mirrored the way Grillby sat, resting his hands limply in his lap, "Breathe in a deep breath and match the fire around you. It's not warm to you anymore, you're the same."

The elemental did as he was told, wary and a bit nervous. He closed his eyes and stoked himself hotter and brighter, matching the feel of the flame around him, the color and the warmth. It was then that he felt… _strange_. It was a bit like the phantom feeling he got when a person was standing too close to him, like they could be touching him even though they weren't. But there was no one close to him now, only that cocoon of fire that now seemed much less like a blanket around him and more like a presence. Like dozens of hands held just slightly away from his body, threatening to touch him but never moving quite close enough. It felt claustrophobic and tense, and he didn't like it.

"Alright, now go back down to your normal temperature Grillby," Gaster's voice cut through his uncomfortable thoughts, pleasant and casual and possibly a little closer than he had been before, "You know, that nice comfortable temperature where I can do stuff like pat your shoulder without burning my hand off."

With a chuckle Grillby started to sigh himself cooler.

" _Tsk!_ You're the only thing cooling down firefly. I need you to bring _everything_ down."

Grillby blinked his eyes open, frowning at Gaster who had indeed moved closer. He was kneeling just out of the fire's flickering reach, watching the elemental intently.

"I can't really make fire that isn't mine cooler," Grillby said with a nervous spark.

Gaster waved a hand experimentally at the flame, feeling the heat.

"Then you've got to make it yours," he said simply, "It doesn't have a soul, Grillby, just a _tiny_ _bit_ of intent and it'll do whatever you want."

"I don't-"

"Just match your fire with it again," the skeleton instructed, and with a nervous gulp Grillby did as he was told. Gaster watched him and smirked.

"You're like, _right there_. Can't you feel that?"

"I mean, I feel _something_ ," Grillby said exasperatedly, "But I'm hardly in control, it that's what you're getting at."

Gaster paused, thinking hard on something before asking, "Okay, so under what circumstances would you ever have the intent to burn me?"

Grillby blinked at the skeleton for a moment, core shuddering under a slowly growing feeling of panic, "Probably never."

"So, even if you were blazing hot," Gaster continued slowly, "And I decided to do a stupid thing and touch you anyway, what would happen?"

"I'd try to cool down," Grillby sputtered, sparks flying as his panic started to build, "Key word is _try_ , Gaster."

A mischievous grin settled across the skeleton's face and he waved a hand lackadaisically at Grillby from where he sat.

"Gaster don't…"

The skeleton ignored him. Instead, he made a show of rolling up his sleeve, keeping his hand clasped on the baggy fabric so it didn't roll back down his arm again. He glanced back at Grillby, eye ridge raising slightly.

"Ready?"

" _No_ ," Grillby shouted, sparks flying, "You're going to burn yourself Gaster."

The skeleton rolled his eyes, smile not faltering for a moment, "Reach a hand out for me Grillby."

Grillby hesitantly did as he was told, fire flickering wildly with worry. The fire around him seemed to feel his unease as he reached, licking around his arm haphazardly as if a stiff wind were teasing it into motion. One of the burning logs toppled over, spraying sparks and crackling agitatedly. Grillby's hand stretched out open-palmed and expectant, shivering just slightly from his nerves. It flickered through the same hot colors as the fire around it, bright whites and yellows that would be painful even for a monster with no proper skin to burn.

"Okay, so do you want me to count to three, or should I just reach in?" Gaster asked.

Grillby shook his head in dismay, though he already knew his protests were getting him nowhere. Just how in the world was Gaster so _calm_ about this?! The skeleton let out an amused chuckle.

"Okay, so I'll count to three then," he said casually, as if he were doing _anything_ other than sticking his hand in a fire pit, "One…"

Grillby closed his eyes and winced. _Oh_ this wasn't going to work!

"Two…"

Gaster's voice sounded so _smug_. He could hear the smile in it. Well, he wouldn't be smiling for long, _that_ was for sure! Meanwhile Grillby was doing his best not to panic. His core was shivering and humming uncomfortably in his chest, some space in his stomach turning itself in knots. The fire around him was once again feeling that stifling, claustrophobic kind of close against him, itching and foreign in his nervousness.

Something bumped into his hand, and he let out a started shriek of a noise at it. Grillby's eyes snapped open, and he blinked in total bafflement at his hand, which was clasped neatly around Gaster's skeletal fingers. The skeleton's arm up to the elbow was surrounded by flame - fire that was now pitched in panicky and sickly hues of yellow and green, matching the colors of Grillby's arm exactly. But it didn't so much as singe the skeleton as it flickered around his delicate bones, instead dancing around them harmless and ghostly. Gaster grinned wide in the pallid light, eyes reflecting shifting colors as Grillby's surprise - and then relief - rippled every inch of the fire into gentle blues.

"Three."

Grillby blinked down at their hands, back up to Gaster's grinning face, and then down to their hands again, "That… doesn't hurt at all?"

"Nope."

"... when…?"

Gaster shrugged, gently pulling his hand back and resituating his sleeve down his arm, "Roundabout the time I got to two. _You_ weren't watching, but the entire color of the fire just lit up with your nervous colors."

He crossed his arms in a smug grin, "Told you it was easy. Have some more faith in me for heaven's sakes."

Grillby rolled his eyes, "Alright alright. You were right. I guess..."

The elemental blinked around at the flickering blaze around him, watching the colors turn, "So uh… what now?"

"Now you gather it up, nice and neat, and pack it into your soul," Gaster sighed as he relaxed backwards, propping himself up against one of the piles of spare firewood he'd stacked, "Like you would with your own flame when you're cleaning up after a spar."

Simple as that, the fire leached itself out of the burning material around it, as if it had been Grillby's to command all along. It sped up in burning as it did, hungry for just a bit more of the wood around it before finally giving up and disappearing into the rest of the flame in Grillby's body. There was a tense itch in his soul when it was finished, like there was a little more of something there than he was used to.

Gaster reached into the stack of wood at his back, smiling at the sputtering coal that were the only thing left of the fire, "And now we get to do it all over again."

* * *

The following days had Grillby constantly burning and consuming. The first night of fires had been nervous ones, always needing some sort of extra prompting from Gaster to get the elemental going. But by the following morning, Grillby was strolling about and scooping up every campfire that had been lit. It sure saved them time in stamping them all out before heading out for the day. As they scouted, Grillby found himself small patches of things to burn, dead trees and debris they came across. All night long he burning something.

The slow inward trickle of energy started out as an itch, barely noticeable against the constant energetic hum of his soul. But the more he consumed, the more the restless itch turning into a push, his core reverberating with extra magic that his body didn't know what to do with. It pitched him into brighter and brighter colors, kept him restless and pacing. He felt jittery and full, like his core was ready to split open. He couldn't sleep. There was too much of him for that. It felt like his very _soul_ was cramped up into some tiny place, curled up and aching to stand and stretch. He had felt something like this before shortly after he'd been summoned, when they monsters that had called him forth fed him and trained him and made him too strong for the tiny vessel he'd been summoned in. He'd decided then to morph himself into the form he was in now.

A form he enjoyed enough to resist the feverish tug as it begged him to become something bigger.

He made monsters nervous, no doubt - both the new ones that joined them as well as the companies already present. Grillby could notice the reek of powerful magic dripping off of him. And the constant white and blue hues that brightened the world around him only ever got more intense instead of dimming down. By the fourth day, he couldn't even lower his heat past a certain level. Even Gaster could feel it emanating off of the elemental when he stepped too close. His constant pacing put people on edge.

If only they knew it was all for them, and not just some nervous episode from a twitchy elemental.

They were six days into their march after picking up reinforcements that they spotted signs of the humans they were supposed to engage. Scouts stumbled upon tracks from hunters moving out to scavenge food for the force. Ghosts brought in reports of an army two hundred horses strong gathered at the edge of a river, too close for comfort but too far for them to engage before nightfall. One more day. They were one day away from their destination. No fires were lit that night, meals were cold and tense. Watches were posted, nervous and alert.

That night as Grillby paced, begging closer the hour that he could finally be rid of some of the magical mess building up inside of him, Gaster joined him - woken from a nightmare and unwilling to go back to sleep. He let the elemental pace in silence for a while while Gaster himself thought, stewing on a worry brought to the forefront of his mind by the angry recurring dream.

"Grillby?" Gaster asked finally, bringing the elemental's energized pacing to a hesitant stop, "What happens tomorrow?"

The elemental shifted on his feet uncomfortably, unable to keep completely still, "Uh… what do you mean?"

"I've never really been a part of a battle before," Gaster said quietly, "Little skirmishes yeah, and of course that one fight that started it all. But I've never been on an open field before, in the thick of it."

Grillby shrugged, "Well if I do my job right, you won't _be_ in the thick of it. Nobody will."

"But assuming we are… what happens?"

The elemental frowned - a subtler motion now that his color couldn't pitch much to compliment it, though he did manage a small tinge of orange amongst his coursing whites and blues, "Well, it'll get chaotic fast. Your best bet is to stick close to Ammy. Her spears will make short work of any horses that get past the pikemen. And of course you've fought humans before."

He shrugged, "And I guess, always remember there's no right or wrong out there. Only what you can live with."

Gaster blinked at him uncomprehendingly, and Grillby explained, "You're the difference between life and death for someone. If you can't handle that responsibility, then you can't. You're not a lesser monster just because you can't kill someone who's running away, or begging for their life. You're no lesser because you can, either. And if something goes wrong because of that decision, you had no way of knowing that would happen, so there's no use blaming yourself."

Gaster watched Grillby for a long moment before nodding, dropping his gaze to the ground at his feet, "I see."

The elemental cleared his throat, dragging Gaster's gaze back up to him again, "So uh… speaking of self-image and being lesser and all that…"

The skeleton smirked, "Don't tell me you're getting stage fright."

"Of course not," Grillby said with a nervous laugh, "It's just… well… elementals get kind of scary to other monsters. And I wanted to make sure you wouldn't be one of _those_ monsters. That get kind of twitchy. After they uh… see me do things."

Gaster blinked at Grillby once, a grin slowly splitting his features. He let out a laugh, "You're not serious, firefly."

Grillby made a helpless gesture with his hands, "Look, even Gerson was intimidated the first time we went to battle together. And we were side-by-side then, when I wasn't lighting an _entire army_ on fire."

Gaster hadn't stopped laughing since Grillby started talking, and now he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, chuckling and grinning, "Heavens alive, firefly, I _know_ you're harmless. And we've sparred at least a hundred times! You think anything you do tomorrow is going to scare me off? Or _Ammy_ off?"

Grillby crossed his arms stiffly, scowling, "Ammy's fought with elementals before. You haven't."

"Grillby, I fought a human that wouldn't die," his laugher was dying down a bit now, replaced by a more serious kind of smirk at the edge of his teeth, " _Nothing_ can scare me at this point."

Grillby threw his hands in the air exasperatedly, but didn't argue back. Gaster could think his worrying was ridiculous if he wanted to - Grillby would worry anyway. But… a corner of his soul felt a bit of relief even past all the nervous twitching and humming of his core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooo sorry we're a couple hours later than we normally are. Mostly because this scene kicked my butt. I wrote over 2000 words of it, decided I didn't like it, and started over mostly from scratch. You know how much that hurt my soul??? Good news though: action starts soon :'D
> 
> Though I will warn you that irregular updates may start happening within the next couple of weeks! I'm going to be out of town both this weekend and next weekend. And as I write most of my chapters during my Saturday work days... and I won't be working on Saturdays for the next couple weeks...
> 
> I'm going to do my best to balance it! But be aware that some updates might come late!


	21. World on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally get to see Grillby kick some butt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aiy! Putting my notes at the start of the chapter instead of the end this time. Hope ya don't mind!
> 
> Anywho! Quick forewarning that this chapter *contains graphic depictions of violence*. 
> 
> Also, if you'd like some extra fun for this chapter, I'd recommend pulling up the instrumental version of the song "Louder than Words" by Les Friction (I've left a cue (*) where to kick it in). I've never done the musical cue thing before! So tell me if you think it fits? And maybe if you think I should try this again sometime XD
> 
> You can find the song here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6jalZvyoYQ

Morning came upon them bright and pleasant, the barest tugging of a breeze snatching at the hems of capes and tunics. The sun put a glint in the armor of a host of monsters, a flicker of fire across poleaxes, spears, lances and swords. The sky was brilliantly blue, the day warm for autumn. The landscape was alive with the sounds of birds and small animals, restless as the magic in the air. It was beautiful. It twisted Grillby’s stomach in knots and peaked his flame through every shade of blue and white he could possibly be.

The scouts had come back that morning with news that the horsemen were now moving in their direction, moving to engage. To wipe out the small army of monsters who dared to test their might against their horses and swords. Now the monster host stood waiting for the convergence, the air tense as a bowstring, magic and intent stirring like a bitter miasma in the breeze. Ahead, the world sprawled out before them, a clearing hemmed sparsely by trees, the field dotted with dandelion fluff.

Grillby huffed a breath from where he stood, smoke wafting in an ashen halo around his head. He was at the front of the mustered army of monsters, standing rigidly beside Amathea and Brigg and a small handful of commanders he’d been unable to become acquainted with. Gaster stood shortly behind him, fidgeting anxiously with his hands and sweeping his eyes across the field before him for the first sign of a human breaking the tree line. He’d been a nervous wreck all morning, worrying over and over again about whatever would happen today, not knowing what to expect. Amathea on the other hand had been nothing less than enthusiastic. Reasonably wary as well, she had spent most of the morning delivering rousing talks to the more jittery parts of the companies as well as reviewing countermeasures with the other commanders. Now though, standing before the grand field where all her planning was destined to unfold, she was eager and ready. Amathea gave a roguish grin, hand planting itself firmly on her hip as she heaved out an exaggerated breath.

“Beautiful day for a battle, eh tinderbox?” she asked, clapping him enthusiastically on the back, “Not a cloud in sight, even ground to walk on…”

“Large open plain, perfect for horses,” Grillby murmured worriedly, more to himself than the commander beside him. His soul giving a nervous shudder past it’s uncomfortable, bursting feeling.

“Aye, and perfect for _burning_ ,” Amathea pointed out, voice steady and reassuring, “Less of a chance of us getting cut off by a brush fire.”

“That happens?” Gaster squeaked from behind them.

“It’s not a problem if you account for it,” Amathea shrugged, “But woe to the commander that forgets once an elemental releases their element on something, it tends to have a mind of its own! There have been units caught in their own crossfire before, especially in nasty forests where things tend to go up like a box of tinder. Open fields like this are a bit more forgiving, especially on days like this where the wind is down.”

A horn blast in the distance burst through the air, echoing across to them in a wail of warning. Grillby wasn’t sure what it signaled for, but a restless sort of shiver passed through the monsters around him at the sound of it. Amathea’s smile turned sharp and dangerous as the sound died off.

“Brace yourself lad, they’ll be along soon,” the commander said, a magical spear crackling to life in her hand - just in case, “You remember what to do if the charge doesn’t break?”

“Pray,” Grillby chuckled with a sarcastic flicker. Amathea jabbed an elbow into his side and he amended, “Retreat back to the front line.”

“Good,” she flashed him a gentler smile, “You’ll do fine, tinderbox.”

A second horn sounded, closer now and foreign - humans rallying to the sound before breaking from their cover at the other end of the field. Amathea gave Grillby a sound shove, sending the elemental staggering out to meet them while Gaster stepped up to fill the void he’d left behind.

“You ever see an elemental at their finest, Gaster?” Amathea asked, her voice a low purr in her chest as she waited for the fight to begin unfolding. The skeleton shook his head.

“Just our spars. And I keep hearing those actually aren’t all that fantastic.”

Amathea barked a laugh, clapping a hand on his shoulder, “Well then! You’re about to see why so many monsters wish we’d never started summoning elementals into this mess.”

Her face split in an exhilarated grin, “And why the likes of us are all the more glad we did.”

 

Grillby couldn’t have felt more nervous if there were a thunderstorm brewing overhead. He felt terribly exposed and alone, walking away from the body of monsters behind him and across the expanse of flat _dangerously open_ ground before him. It felt weird and unnatural. It made his entire core shudder. He also worried that the humans would notice something weird was going on, seeing him out and alone like this. But Amathea had insisted they’d be too enthusiastic in charging forward to much care what kind of daft monster was standing out there alone to meet them - not until it was too late anyway.

**(*)**

Grillby stopped walking when a rumble like thunder started to tremble the air around him. He could feel it shivering through the ground at his feet, a soft reverberation that jittered its way through his body and set his nerves that much more on edge. They were coming. He could see the muffled glint of metal through the trees in front of him, the shouts and whoops as riders spurred their horses faster. The rumbling in the air and the earth intensified. Then they were crashing out into the open, swords drawn and teeth bared in a ferocious charge that would put the fear of the afterlife in any sensible monster. They shouted to each other in their strange, guttural language, the thrill of battle pushing them and their horses faster. They organized themselves into a dangerous arrow of a formation, ready to drive right through the monster army behind Grillby. 

Heavens alive there were _so many_ _of them_.

A soft, creeping sort of calm crawled its way through the elemental’s soul as they neared. They couldn’t harm him, they didn’t even know who or what he was. As they thundered closer, they didn’t hesitate for a moment. Even as the heat started building in the air, so rapid it wilted the grass at Grillby’s feet and warped the air with waves as it bloomed around him. There was a tense, bursting feeling building in his soul as he prepared to let this new strength loose. A dozen white darts of flame flickered to life in the air around the elemental. They were so small and unassuming, strangely dim in the brightness of the day and the haze of heat around them.

With a sigh of relief Grillby released the fiery projectiles on the line of horseman, feeling the tense build up in his soul relax just slightly. Much like the ones he used while sparring, these exploded into a hail of molten, burning debris on impact. Horses staggered, reared and stumbled. Men screamed and went tumbling into the beasts behind them. The smell of _burning_ hit Grillby in a sickly and ragged mess of metal, perfume and sulfur. It weighted the air and hung heavy in the smoke left in the attack’s wake, only stirring when Grillby struck again with another volley of those molten darts.

The loud, thundering charge was quickly fragmenting into a struggle forward as horses wheeled and reared and humans prayed they didn’t trip over the fallen beasts and comrades in front of them. But still they came forward, defiant and angry, war cries mingling with the sounds of the burning and dying and the shrieks of injured horses. Grillby waited for them to get nearer before bearing open his soul to them in a wave of white fire, panicked screams answering it as it crashed down on the charging animals and men. The molten attack broke across them and clung to their bodies like burning honey, sending an entire section of the charge collapsing into the blazing grass, a formless mass mixed in a heat so fierce it could melt armor, flesh and bone. Horses that stumbled into it - their momentum carrying them too fast to stop - and pitched their riders as they screamed and floundered on legs too burnt to carry them any further. A familiar crackling sound filled the air - not the sound of burning tinder, but the sound of dozens of souls shattering, some managing to flash a weak color before they splintered apart.

In a handful of minutes Grillby had reduced the charging, raging army into a reeling and panicking mess of men and animals, many now spurring their horses around to flee back in the direction they’d come while riderless beasts kicked and bolted. The elemental fired after them relentlessly, darts and cartwheels of flame tearing after the fleeing army faster than they could run. A triumphant cheer rang out behind him, and the frenetic itching in his soul finally started to settle. Grillby heaved a smoking sigh, letting loose a final volley of burning darts.

A blinding white flash consumed his vision, a roar like thunder wrapping itself around every inch of his consciousness. Grillby blinked, suddenly on his back in the grass, a blurry smear of blue and white sky the only thing he could make out in his dazzled vision. He staggered to his feet, half-blind and confused, the world lilting and bleary with patterns of light burned into his vision.

_What in heaven’s name…?!_

He managed to catch sight of a white flicker, brighter than the flame of the carnage before him and tinted softly blue. Grillby leaped out of the way of it just as it charged for him. He felt more than heard the deafening boom that followed, the concussion ripping through the air and setting his ears to ringing even more than they already were. A white streak of lightning cleaved through the ground where he’d been standing, and Grillby felt a rush run through his tingling soul.

A single human was left charging towards him instead of fleeing madly away - a slowly refocusing blur of dappled grey horseflesh and glittering steel. There was a staff in their hand, blazing a defiant trail of light behind them, a phosphorescent streamer flickering in the wind.

It was a _mage_ , screaming an incantation and digging their heels into their horse’s sides to spur it faster. Another arc of lightning blazed from the staff in their hand, stretching jagged and broken fingers down to meet discs of flame Grillby conjured to counter with. They shattered together in a flare of tangled sparks, a roaring peal of thunder splitting the air and shaking the elemental’s core with the closeness of the sound. The intensity of it sent a ripple through the field, waves of sound and heat scattering the delicate dandelion fluff in the grass into floating swirls of ashen white. Grillby narrowed his eyes at the human, growled out a tense hiss of smoke, and filled the air with an answering roar of flame.

The human screamed back at him in exasperation, their words lacking the normal grace of an incantation and instead pouring from their mouth in a stream of anger and fear as they wheeled their horse about. The animal was fleet-footed and sure, leaping wildly away from the pinwheels and spears of fire Grillby shot towards it, guided by the well-timed nudges of its rider’s heels, knees and bridle. They were maddeningly fast, the animal’s frenzied hooves sending clods of dirt and grass flying with every bound. Grillby found himself struggling to hit them, sparks and debris singeing the animal’s coat and burning smoke from the human’s billowing cape but never catching enough to do damage. The mage steered their horse back and forth across the field twice, clinging close to the animal’s neck to make themselves a smaller target, before finally wheeling and retreating.

With a bitter scowl Grillby realized the field was mostly smoldering and empty, only a few remaining horseless humans still scrambling for safety. The mage had been making a _distraction_. And now they were retreating back into the woods, a streak of grey against the blurring tree line. Grillby shot after them one last volley as they fled, his deadly lances of flame splitting deep scores into the trees and sending sparks and wood shattering into the air. In the mess of crackling wood and debris he finally landed a hit, tearing a burning rip into the horse’s shoulder. The animal squealed and toppled over, legs flailing as it rolled and struggled to get back to its feet. When it finally managed to stand, it bucked and kicked before galloping away, riderless, shoulder still smoldering from the searing hit that had knocked it off its feet.

Even at the distance he stood at, Grillby could see the telltale flash of a strong soul shuddering before it cracked apart, dissolving with a pale flicker of crumbling cyan.

 


	22. I Tend To Faint At The Sight Of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the skeleton is in his element while the elemental is not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to this week's segment of: The Author's Notes Are In The Wrong Place!
> 
> Quick head's up that this chapter contains ~~ depictions of gore in the form of your stereotypical bloody hospital scene. ~~  
> I don't think it's all that bad, but I know some people get pretty uncomfortable with that so read with caution.
> 
> Also a quick apology about lateness of the chapter! I was away all weekend with access to the internet for only 2 hours at a time roughly. So over half of this chapter was written in a little black journal and transposed in here, while the other half I wrote tonight (it's 2am here whoops).

"I told you you'd do tinderbox, and here I am right!" Amathea beamed, clapping a strong hand against Grillby's back in congratulations.

It had taken the elemental a moment to bring the fires he'd let loose on the little plain back under control - enough so that they didn't threaten to destroy half the countryside as the troop began their long march back to a base camp. The stench of burning flesh, hair and flora clung to Grillby's clothes like syrup and ash. He'd probably smell like death for weeks; It was the kind of awful, persistent scent that never really seemed to wash away, whiffs of it waiting to kick up again just when you'd thought you'd rid yourself of it. The smell was worth knowing he had saved the lot of monsters behind him one battle at least - though the display was sure to attract an overwhelming amount of attention. When they fought again, they wouldn't be able to rely on the elemental to hold the entire force back. For now though it was obvious the host of monsters were celebrating, relieved and impressed by the work the elemental had managed to do.

"I'll admit that mage surprised me," Grillby said with a flicker of a smile - glad his friends could actually see the change in colors now that he'd loosed enough of that maddening energy to cool, "I didn't even realize they were there."

"They surprised _you?_ " Gaster let out an incredulous laugh, "It scared me and Ammy half to dust! All we saw was a flash of light and you were just…!"

The skeleton punctuated the end of his sentence with a wild splay of his hands, as if it could somehow explain what he'd seen and felt. Amathea's ear frills twitched in a nervous smile, nodding to Gaster as if she understood the motion.

"Aye lad. If you'd've climbed to your feet any slower that beastie would've had _me_ to contend with!" she declared, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl, "Mage or not, no human is hurting one of _my_ boys and getting away with it!"

Grillby chuckled at this, flushing soft blues in embarrassment, "Good to know you'll come to my rescue, Ammy."

" _Just_ her?!" Gaster barked a laugh, puffing out his chest mightily, "She would've had to get in line, let me tell you!"

Grillby flashed in the bright colors of a grin - both at the hilarity of the idea of them coming to his rescue and the touch of emotion he felt knowing they would offer to. Really they should never have to come save him. He was there to make sure monsters like them didn't have to face a mage's might, after all! But even still, their enthusiasm was comforting, warming to the soul. Grillby was glad he had them.

* * *

Much like the walk out to battle, the walk back to camp was agonizingly slow and uneventful - though this time Grillby and Gaster managed to weasel their way out of a few of the many scouting and hunting trips. The number of ghosts wafting about the army as they walked went down, dispersing to collect information on how the humans would move next. Grillby watched them come and go with apprehension, wondering when the troop might be moved off again. He could feel foreboding rising around him like intent in the air no matter how hard he tried to stifle the feeling. Maybe he was just nervous? He'd used a good piece of magic in the fight. Perhaps he was just feeling the absence and calling it nerves because he'd never felt it before?

After a few days of walking, no ground-shaking news crossed them and Grillby managed to breathe a hesitant sigh of relief. Perhaps, for a little while at least, they were safe waiting for the humans to regain their feet.

The camp they finally managed to settle into - the one they'd passed over in their rush to meet the horsemen - was simply named "Front Line Camp". Apparently the commander who had established it wasn't too bright with naming things. In hindsight, calling it a camp was a bit of a stretch. It wasn't much more than a collection of pieced together tents and supply wagons hiding in the shelter of a rocky hillside, a roving army that constantly moved and shifted with the tides of war. There was an air of exhaustion there. No monster was ever stationed there long, only pausing long enough for their unit to receive more orders and then move out again - either to battle or to another camp as forces were shuffled to and fro.

The only portion of the camp that could be called any kind of permanent was the group of large canvas tents that served as the infirmary. There were doctors stationed there every hour of the day, ready to take in the sick and the wounded. It was here that the world seemed dismal, even after the victory Grillby had managed to grab for them. The air stung with the crisp, sterile smell of green magic and the clinging softness of dust.

By midday their tents were pitched in the shadow of the hill, crowded together but glad for a place to rest. Gaster managed most of the tent-pitching for their little group, those extra pairs of hands he could summon making quick work of the building. Grillby hardly had to lift a finger. Instead he busied himself in making small fire pit for cooking while Amathea paced and leafed through a few letters of information she'd received upon arriving. She was already worrying herself about what their next move should be, not even giving herself a few minutes of peace first. With a smirk, Grillby rifled through his inventory for the small box of spices he'd managed to keep from when they'd left their first camp. He could at least give everyone one nice meal before their lives kicked into action again.

He'd just got a strong fire going when a ruckus struck up in the main camp, snapping up all of the little group's attention. Grillby watched as a handful of monsters went jogging about settling army. They went about from one group of monsters to the next asking things that were too obscured from distance to make out, though from the tone in their voices Grillby could just barely make out it was a question at the edge of their voices.

"I wonder what's going on," Grillby hummed from where he sat.

"Well whatever it is, it's got people in a tizzy," Amathea frowned worriedly, "We should probably go see what's going on."

Gaster let out a world-weary sigh at the suggestion, collapsing onto the ground in protest. He glared up at the sky with a look of exaggerated exhaustion.

"But we just _got here_ ," he whined, throwing a slender arm over his face dramatically, "I want a nap and I want food!"

He ushered indignantly in Grillby's direction, earning a flicker of a smile from the elemental. Amathea rolled her eyes, smirking.

"Look! Grillby's started a fire and everything! And he's a _good cook_. Can't we eat first? My feet hurt and I don't want to move!"

Amathea gave the skeleton a nudge in the side with her boot, chuckling, "Aw you poor lamb! Explain to me again how something without muscles or skin can be sore, would you?"

Gaster gave her a withering glare, "You shush with your sarcasm."

The fish monster gave a hearty laugh, "Alright you whiner. Lay there and have your dinner. But if those monsters make their way over there I won't turn them away."

This seemed to satisfy Gaster. He propped himself up by the fire, content to doze until Grillby managed to cook them something. Which the elemental did try to do at least. But it took a few minutes to get anything going, and by the time he already had, the voices of the monsters searching amongst the tents were much closer. Soon they were stumbling right into them, disheveled and a bit out of breath from traveling along the line of warriors. It was a cat-like monster that approached them, eyes dark and tired from a long day. She brightened almost instantly when she walked over to the fire.

"Oh! You must be Doctor Gaster!" she said with a sigh of relief. Gaster startled when he heard his name, sitting up to fix the girl in a questioning sort of glare.

"Uhm… depends who's asking?"

"We've been looking for you!" she said quickly, unfazed by his wilting sarcasm, "Well… we were looking for _doctors_ specifically... But one of the monsters near the front said you healed a fallen down monster a while ago. They told us to look for you."

The ridge above Gaster's unbroken eye rose.

"We need help," she continued, "There was a nasty battle to the east, a large one. They're sending all the wounded they can here, and we're sure our doctors can't handle them all. We're asking all the doctors assigned to these units to help in the medical tents until things are under control… well as much as they can be."

Gaster frowned, a look crossed between disappointment and apology worming its way across his face. He started moving his hands to sign something - Grillby could already make out him saying no. The elemental let out a flustered spark.

"Gaster! You've got to help!"

"Firefly I would if I could," the skeleton frowned at him before turning back to the girl, "Really I would. But I don't use normal healing magic. I can't help a large group of people. I'd just get in the way."

"Lad, you once had an entire camp you helped heal," Amathea said gently, "Surely there's something you can do here."

Gaster let out an exasperated huff, scowling, "That was different! I had two, three, sometimes _four_ assistants with me at all times. All of them high level monsters with a lot of magic. That was the only reason I could do the work I did then. By myself I can handle a handful of minor wounds, maybe keep someone from losing a limb if I'm lucky."

"What about me?" Grillby asked, earning a flustered laugh from Gaster, "I helped you with that other monster you healed. And I have _way_ more magic than you. I didn't even use all the extra I got before the battle."

"I can help as well, Gaster, if you need it," Amathea said with what was supposed to be a reassuring grin - though it looked a bit more like a snarl, "Just say the word."

Gaster looked completely at a loss. He signed through a few partial sentences of protest, whining dismayingly as he flicked his gaze between Amathea and Grillby for a few long seconds. Finally he hissed out a breath through his clenched teeth and turned to the girl.

"If we can help, we will," he said, and the cat monster nodded gratefully before jogging off to gather any more monsters who could use some sort of healing magic. Gaster rubbed his face worriedly as she left, eyes scrunched shut in thought. After a pause he started signing quickly, fixing Grillby and Amathea in a hearty glare.

"You guys don't even know what you're signing up for," he pointed out bitterly.

"Give us the shortest version you can then," came Amathea's immediate reply, and Gaster dropped his gaze back down to his feet, thinking. He muttered something under his breath about the last camp he was in, a bit too quietly for Grillby to catch everything he said. He hummed quietly to himself for a moment, hands moving as he thought something through, and then started explaining.

"Alright, the best way I've ever worked was when I had three assistants," the skeleton began, "I had two monsters I would pull magic from, and a third who would mark my patients. Most of my work went into stabilizing falling monsters - there's a sad few healers out here who can manage the kind of magic it takes to bring a monster back from over the edge. Obviously there's only two of you…"

Gaster looked between Amathea and Grillby, "Ammy you're going to be my marker."

The fish monster nodded, ear frills twitching forward a bit as she waited for orders. Gaster gave her a quick run-through of what he was looking for - he needed her constantly combing through the monsters brought in, finding any the normal doctors couldn't handle and setting one of her blue spears beside them to show Gaster where to go next. He would pass by anyone else, focusing his attention on the monsters that needed him the most. Amathea's magic stood strong even when she walked a distance away from it - a skill few monsters could keep a handle on well. She was perfect for the running task.

Then there was Grillby, Gaster's storehouse of magic that would be used during his healing. As the skeleton discussed this part, there was a bitter steal of seriousness in his voice, and he kept Grillby locked in a steady glare. He explained as best he could that what he would be doing was, basically, picking apart little pieces of the elemental's soul and sewing it into the cracks of other monsters. It was going to be exhausting, possibly painful work, and came at a decent amount of risk for Grillby's own soul and HP. After all, taking too much of _any_ monster's magic could end in disaster.

"Not that I'd _ever_ put you in any danger," Gaster managed as reassuringly as he possibly could, though Grillby was already turning shades of nervous green, "But working with this kind of magic is like playing with fire. You have to do it _cautiously_. So we're going to set up a system. Okay?"

The elemental nodded slowly, "What did you have in mind?"

"I need a trick, something small and easy to do but takes some concentration," Gaster summoned a small spinning attack into the air beside his moving hands; it flickered vibrant blue with measured intent, "Like this. And when I ask you to, you're going to do it for me. _Every_ time I ask, firefly."

Before Grillby could even think of a response to that Gaster was going on, his voice vehement and stern, "And you listen to me Grillby. When I tell you to do something, you do it. You don't ask me questions and you don't hesitate, alright? If I tell you we're moving on, we're moving on. And for heaven's sakes, if I tell you you're done, you're done. And _you_ tell _me_ if you start losing HP, or feel _wrong_ in any way. It's useless trying to help other monsters if you're killing yourself, alright?"

"Alright."

Gaster huffed a heavy sigh, somehow managing to look both relieved and tense at the same time, "Good. Okay. Now let's work out that attack…"

* * *

An hour later the three of them were jogging across the camp to the healing tents, Grillby casting pensive looks into the distance where a train of wagons had rumbled into view. Before them, winged monsters of all sorts carried the more severely wounded in, rushing to get them to safety. Already they were diving into the healing tents, dropping off their passengers before flurrying off again to grab more. By the time Grillby and the others made it to the tents themselves, they were already nearly full to bursting, the first of the wagons pulling in and unloading their wounded. Gaster entered, a strange sort of blank expression washing across his face and he took in a bracing breath.

Inside the tents was chaos. Grillby had never been in the healing tents after a battle before - he'd never needed to be. He'd never been the sort of wounded that needed treatment, the worst he'd ever suffered from being a mild case of magical exhaustion that came from a long fight. He'd seen death, he'd seen monsters dying.

This was different.

There were monsters lined up in rows on cots and, when those ran out, the floor. They were moaning and crying. Some laughed hysterically, some shook as they sunk into physical or mental shock. Some few screamed, while others lay unconscious or nearly there, gazes vacant and glazed over. And everywhere there was the stench of leaking magic, blood and the coating sand-like smell of dust that stained the inside of the nose and mouth and filtered through the air as doctors and nurses rushed back and forth through the mess of wounded bodies. It was a smell that was uncannily gritty and hard, like neglect and forgetfulness. Already some of the cots were being emptied, monsters having succumbed to their wounds in the short time they'd been lifted to safety and crumbling away before any other monster could help them. Meanwhile doctors and nurses stumbled from monster to monster. Some operated on physical wounds, holding down and sewing together thrashing bodies while others poured green into bleeding or broken wounds. Some of the doctors wore grisly hooked masks, a soft bundle of herbs inside saving them from the angry smells of death and dying in the tent.

Grillby felt his insides twist as the sight, the _smell_ rocked across him in waves. His core, his _soul_ shivered and he felt sick. He was barely aware of Gaster putting a wraith-like hand on the small of his back.

"Don't stare," he whispered, forcing the elemental to pay attention to the lowered voice instead of the chaotic noise ahead of him, "Put your eyes on the floor if you have to. And for heaven's sakes keep breathing as steadily as you can. You can't pass out."

The elemental managed an estranged nod, gaze dropping slowly to the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amathea set her jaw and storm forward. She took off at a run, dodging neatly around flittering nurses and doctors and lifting spears into existence near the heads of every dying monster she saw. Spears shivered into life, short pauses marking the intervals at which Amathea paused to inspect the monsters before her before moving on.

Gaster's eyes swept across the room, narrowing at a pair of monsters nearby who were quite obviously out of place. They were soldiers, one a tall and thin dragon-like monster and the other a shorter demon-esque with daintily curling horns. They were dressed in the emblem of the king and light chainmail - standing out starkly against the fluttering black cloaks of the doctors and nurses that hurried past. They stood huddled close together, shock and dismay widening their eyes and setting a shudder through their bodies. Gaster was storming over to them in an instant, Grillby barely managing to remember himself enough to numbly follow.

"You two!" the skeleton barked, yanking startled jumps from the huddling monsters, "This isn't a waiting room. If you're not unloading wounded you need to leave."

The demon-monster was the first to speak up, dragging herself slowly from the stupor of her surroundings, "We were summoned here by one of the nurses. They were asking for anyone with green."

Gaster looked between the two warily, "You both use green?"

"Never for… this…" the dragon said hoarsely, his voice shuddering faintly, "But yes… we can."

In a sweeping gesture, Gaster wrapped his long arms around the two of their necks, surprising them both as he began leading them along to the nearest blue spear.

"Well what are you standing around for?!" he said with a sarcastic sort of brightness at the edge of his voice, "There's monsters that need that magic of yours."

He released them in front of the first monster, ushering quickly for Grillby to join him at the poor creature's side. The mouse-monster was unconscious, leaking a sickly mix of magic and blood into a pool on the floor. Grillby gulped down a growing need to vomit as he stepped in it. In an instant Gaster had yanked out a glowing cord from Grillby's soul, sending another wave of nausea and discomfort through the jittering elemental. Meanwhile the two monsters Gaster had roped along with him stood watching in the kind of morbid horror and curiosity that tugged childishly at their attention.

"You two have names?" Gaster asked, his voice lilting into a fake sort of casual.

"Thea," it was the demon girl who spoke first, before pointing to the dragon, "And this is Merek."

"Doctor Gaster," the skeleton introduced himself with a tense grin, his gaze never leaving the soul he worked on, "So you two have never worked in a medicine tent before huh? That's unfortunate. But workable I think. Just listen closely."

Gaster finished his sewing up of the cracks in the monster's soul well before he had with the dog monster that Grillby had helped him with before. The nasty wound still adorned the creature's body, oozing threateningly though much less than before. Gaster took Thea by the shoulders and stood her closer to the wound.

"Alright, put your green there," he instructed, waiting for her to do as he said obediently before continuing, "You pour everything you've got into that until it's small enough to bandage, alright? Then you call a nurse. It's their job to finish the physical stuff like that."

Thea nodded, frowning and glaring at her work with growing resolve as the wound began healing.

"Do you know what magical exhaustion feels like?"

She shook her head.

"Okay, you're going to start feeling weak," Gaster explained, "Shaky probably. And nauseous - more than you probably already do, if you're anything like I was the first time I walked into a mess like this. You might start seeing things moving in the corner of your eyes, and it will start getting really hard to concentrate on your magic, or make it move like it's supposed to. When that happens, you call a nurse. They'll get someone to take your place, or at least get some food and rest into you before throwing you back in. Now, when you're done here you move onto the next spear and start healing, understand?"

She nodded to him one more time. Without further question, Gaster grabbed Merek by the wrist and dragged him off to the next spear. Grillby followed a step behind them, flickering nervously. Gaster hadn't bothered to let his soul sink back into its normal place - the precious seconds it would take to summon it back again to work with were seconds that could be spent healing someone else. Even still, Grillby didn't imagine he'd get used to the exposed feeling any time soon.

With practiced care Gaster mirrored his previous work on the next monster, speaking in soft tones to Merek as he re-explained what he'd just told Thea. The dragon monster was shakier than his partner, hands shuddering and a grimace fixed across his face as he began healing. But after a few seconds of work, Gaster deemed the monster good enough to leave on his own and jogged off to the next spear, Grillby in tow.

The elemental watched his friend work, trying to find some livable medium between disgust at the wounds he was introduced to and the obnoxious pulling on his soul that came from Gaster's magic. Every monster they worked on was in horrible shape, all of them too far gone for normal green magic to heal them - not until Gaster stabilized their souls. Many of them or unconscious, a few of them crumbling away already by the time they got there. Once or twice they passed cots that were marked but only contained a pile of dust. These made Grillby feel the worst, his soul twisting in ever-tightening knots. There were some patients that needed held still, stuck somewhere between delirium and nightmare from the wounds inflicted on them, too terrified to realize the monsters hovering over them were trying to help. Grillby helped with these as best he could, clamping strong hands down on thrashing arms as Gaster summoned his extra pairs of hands to cling to the legs and shoulders to hold them still. By the time Gaster was finished with them, they were sound enough to recognize the creatures around them, and stammered breathless thank you's and apologies.

The longer they worked, the more exhausted Grillby began feeling. The bitter tugging Gaster's magic caused started feeling less and less like a tug and more and more like a pain, first dull and aching like a bruise but then rapidly growing sharp as they walked from monster to monster. There always seemed to be another spear waiting for them, three springing into the air for every one monster they helped. Though the feeling of nausea Grillby had felt was starting to fade away - that was good news right? Maybe?

Was there even such a thing as good news anymore?

As they progressed through the monsters, Gaster constantly asked Grillby questions. His voice was a strange mingling of reserved and casual, alien in the chaos of panic and pain that echoed around them from the wounded monsters.

"How long ago were you summoned, Grillby?"

"Sometime last year. Near the end of winter."

"Have you ever seen it snow?"

"A couple times. I could never get too close to it though. It's not like rain - it all tends to fizzle out before I can reach it I guess."

"Show me that attack we worked on."

"Alright."

Grillby lost count of the number of times Gaster asked him to summon that tiny attack. It was nothing special really, just a fist-sized wheel of fire that Grillby willed into being. He made it spin in his hand three times before dispelling it again. And each time he summoned it, Gaster would give him a searching look, and then a nod, and they would move on.

 _Augh!_ Grillby's chest was _really_ starting to hurt. How many monsters had they helped? Had he ever been keeping track? He felt like that was something he should be keeping track of. They were three rows in now, but he had no idea how many monsters they'd healed and how many they'd passed by. That always left a sour flicker in his flame - passing monsters by. They weren't dying, which seemed to be Gaster's one reigning stipulation for helping anyone. Of course, that meant those monsters could still be healed with green, which was good. But they didn't know what Gaster was doing. They didn't know how his magic worked.

As they cried and begged for help, all they saw was a doctor walking away.

"Hey Grillby, how long ago were you summoned?"

"Uh… Last year. I guess."

"You remember what time of year it was?"

"Well I remember snow so… winter."

"Huh, snow's pretty awesome. It's about the only thing I _like_ about winter time. Though doesn't that get nasty with you being an elemental?"

"I'm… pretty sure it doesn't work the same as rain."

"You'll have to tell me about how it works sometime. First though, show me that attack again, will you?"

The pain in his chest was getting distracting now, shooting outward away from his soul in pins and needles across his core. If Grillby had teeth, he was sure he'd be grinding them together. As it was now, it took a mighty amount of concentration to keep from groaning every time Gaster started yanking away at him again. Shuffling over to a new monster was a chore of movement that stretched seconds into years, and it was all Grillby could do not to hunch over and grab his chest. He'd almost slipped into a shock of a stupor of his own when a shimmering sort of magic yanked his awareness away from his own pain and back to the world around him. He looked up at the strange, familiar sort of newness with a bleary-eyed gaze, surprise creeping into him when he laid eyes on Amathea several rows away from him.

He watched her as she knelt down beside a small dog-monster. The creature's muzzle moved in cries of pain that Grillby couldn't hear across the distance, but he could already tell the monster was shuddering apart, their form hazy as they began collapsing to dust. Or was that Grillby's vision going weird? He… couldn't really tell anymore. Amathea looked across to Grillby and Gaster, a world-weary, exhausted look falling across her face when she realized the two of them wouldn't make it over to help the monster in time. The commander leaned in close to the falling monster, lips moving slowly close to the creature's ear. There was a soft haze of magic, and the creature's whimpering stilled. They passed into dust as softly as one might fall asleep. Amathea paused there for a moment, her whole body wilting as she gazed down at the pile of dust. Then she hauled herself back to her feet and dashed off again, setting up more spears in her wake.

Grillby winced. Gaster was tugging him to his feet - when had he started kneeling? - and asking him questions again. The elemental heaved a sigh and answered them, stumbling along beside the skeleton as he lead him to the next glowing spear. He was summoned a year ago. Snow was involved. He didn't care how it was different from rain. What was that thing he was supposed to be showing Gaster?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also yes, I do faint at the sight of blood. I've been known to start feeling nauseous while passing blood drives, and one time a cat scratch put me on the floor 8D Needless to say I didn't pursue nursing as a major.


	23. Dude you literally smell like death go change your shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we take a short rest (maybe)
> 
> (Also I was attempting to just get this stored so I wouldn't have to worry about typing things up tomorrow but I hit the wrong button so... surprise! Early chapter! :'D )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick forewarning that Monday's update might come late! I'm going to be gone to a con this weekend (not selling, but I did last year and I wanna again soooo badly!). So a heads-up for that there. You might be seeing an update on Tuesday again. I'll try my best to get it out on time though.

“Grillby. Hey, you still with me?”

The elemental blinked slowly. When had they gotten over here? Had they really worked their way through all of those rows? All the monsters and faces and wounds were blurring together into some strange cloud outside his consciousness. He didn’t even really feel like he was in his own body anymore… how long had Gaster been trying to get his attention? He hadn’t blacked out or anything had he? Come to think of it, Grillby couldn’t exactly remember the last few minutes of time. There was just a bit of empty fuzziness in his memory.

How long had he even been here? It… felt like days.

“Firefly!” Gaster snapped a pair of bony fingers in front Grillby’s face, and the elemental refocused on the skeleton with a sluggishness that felt like he was moving through syrup.

“Sorry,” Grillby mumbled, though it was so soft it was lost to the sound around him.

Gaster wrapped him in a searching glare before demanding sharply, “Make the attack.”

A realization crept through Grillby like a slow trickle of sand through an hourglass and he gave a halting, reluctant flicker.

“I’m... fine.”

“ _Grillby_.”

Under normal circumstances, Grillby figured he would be scrambling to do as he was told in time to assure the skeleton that he could, in fact, keep working. But… he could feel inside him that he couldn’t. There was just a feeling of empty where his magic should be. He wasn’t completely exhausted - if that were the case he likely wouldn't be able to hold a form any more. But he was starting to realize the world was swimming faintly in his vision, and the pain in his chest was intense but somehow forgettable against his mounting exhaustion, as if he’d managed to detach himself from it.

“I don’t think I can.”

Grillby’s voice rumbled through his throat like a mix of sand and gravel, the words spilling clumsily out of him sounding nothing short of tired and confused. He was just _so tired_. His body felt unnaturally heavy, his mind strangely apart from it and blank. It was an effort to concentrate on his friend’s face as Gaster frowned - not out of disappointment but out of worry. There was a strange grip on Grillby’s soul as the skeleton searched his stats, concerning himself with just how much magic he’d taken out of the elemental, and smirking with relief when he realized Grillby’s stats were intact.

“Alright, time for you to get some rest,” Gaster said with a tired sigh of his own. It took a moment for Grillby to register just how exhausted the skeleton himself looked. At this point his dark robes were spattered in blood and magic, dust peppering the disheveled fabric along the hems of his sleeves and by his ankles. His face was strangely drawn, the lights of his eyes dim within the darkness of his sockets, and he hunched a bit as if his spine no longer had the strength to stand him straight anymore. Grillby gave a weak flicker of concern.

“Shouldn’t you be resting too?”

Gaster shook his head, “No, I’ve got more work to do.”

“But… you can’t heal anyone else on your own.”

He couldn’t right? Honestly Grillby was a little too tired to remember, and too confused to try. The entire event had become a garbled mess in his head, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t focus hard enough to remember anything past it. His thoughts kept getting eaten up by a weary sort of buzzing exhaustion in his mind, lost in a fog as soon as he thought of them.

“I won’t be healing,” the skeleton said tiredly, his hands barely managing to keep time with his voice as he signed out his sentences half-heartedly, “But I can help some of the nurses with bandaging and cleaning wounds, and setting bones and things like that.”

Grillby blinked slowly, taking a minute to comprehend the sentence before saying, “But… you’re exhausted.”

Gaster’s face split in a warm grin, and he gave a soft chuckle, “Not as much as you are. Come on, go eat something and get some rest.”

He put a guiding hand on Grillby’s back and started leading him out, the elemental too tired to do more than protest quietly - and he wasn’t even sure his protests actually made it into words at this point. Through his haze he realized there wasn’t a spear in sight. Had they actually gotten to everyone, or had Amathea been forced to leave before them? He couldn’t remember seeing her in a while - though he couldn’t remember much right now anyway. The tent was also much quieter now after their hours of working. Monsters slept, some of them fitfully, recovering from the trauma of what they’d been through. Some still needed further healing, and nurses and doctors tended to these with the same shambling exhaustion that Grillby felt. A few of them looked fresher, likely having taken their rests earlier in the night so they could help those who hadn’t had a chance to rest later. The floor was still a mess of waste and dust, the smells of it all having burned themselves out in Grillby’s senses hours ago. But in spite of it all, so many monsters were still alive.

After he’d had some rest, Grillby could be thankful for that.

Gaster led Grillby a few tents over to a hastily set up cooking tent. He sat him down there to eat, not leaving his side as he did so, hovering with a faintly concealed worry. The thick stew was barely a drop into what now felt like an empty reservoir where Grillby’s magic should be, but at least it steadied his tilting vision a bit. With a little less to distract him, Grillby was reminded of that aching in his soul, and he let out a soft groan as the dull, bruise-like pulse started radiating across his chest. Gaster blinked at him with concern.

“Are you alright?”

Grillby managed a slow shake of his head, “Everything sucks.”

The skeleton chuckled at this, smiling tiredly, “Well yeah, I could’ve told you that.”

His smile shrunk a bit, “You’re looking pretty dim there firefly. What’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

Gaster smirked and gave a long-suffering sigh, “Anything wrong with you specifically?”

The elemental did his best to shrug, giving a wince of a flicker as he did so, “I’m tired. And my soul hurts.”

Gaster nodded, his gaze sharpening into something more concentrated, “Sounds about right. Stabbing pain or aching pain?”

“Aching,” Grillby mumbled, “And it keeps spreading out across my core.”

“Where to?”

“Just on my chest and shoulders.”

Gaster gave another nod, “Has your HP changed at all?”

“Nope.”

The skeleton hummed a soft tune under his breath, thinking. Grillby gave a weak laugh.

“Are you diagnosing me, doctor?” he asked with as much humor as he could manage to muster into his voice. It was hard to sound funny when you felt too tired to form a proper sentence. Gaster still caught it though and chuckled back.

“Oh _please_. I can see your symptoms from a mile away,” his smile waned a bit, “Just wondering if I should’ve stopped you sooner is all. I mean, my assistants have complained about pain before. It’s the shooting part that worries me. I should probably check your soul for cracks.”

Grillby flickered a smirk, “Sounds like you’re not going to though.”

Gaster raised the ridge above his unbroken eye, “Well I _was_ just working with your soul. I figure I would’ve noticed something then.”

The skeleton yawned and stretched, slowly making his way to his feet. He fetched Grillby another bowl of stew, checking the elemental’s stats again while he ate and fussing quietly over how much or little he was hurting. When he was sure Grillby wouldn’t be collapsing on his walk back to their tent, he let him go, retreating back into the healing tent with a bracing sigh. It took some bitter reasoning with himself before Grillby managed to haul himself to his feet and begin the long stumble home. He was grateful the world didn’t pitch whenever he took a step - though he still felt unbearably empty and drained.

It was the middle of the night now. The moon was high above his head, proclaiming brightly just how long Grillby had been submerged in the mess of wounded. It was going to be a long night for the doctors and nurses still working. As the elemental walked, he grazed by the dying fires lit by other soldiers in the camp, scooping them into himself when he came across portions of the camp that were already fast asleep. They’d probably be baffled about it in the morning, but at the moment all Grillby cared about was filling the exhausted void and easing the ache in his chest.

By the time he reached his tent, his aching had dulled and he felt a little more revived - at least enough to feel like a living monster instead some kind of walking dead thing. He was surprised to see a decently-sized fire burning when he arrived, and Amathea still awake. She had found herself a place to sit on the ground, her head propped up tiredly in her hand and her elbow balanced on her knee. She looked nothing short of miserable, frowning forlornly into the dancing flames. Her ear frills twitched when she heard him, and she flashed him a tired smile through tangled hair that was coming undone from her braid to fall in her face.

“Welcome back tinderbox.”

Grillby sat down heavily beside her, “Glad to be back. And glad to be _done_ … for now at least.”

“Gaster’s still working I take it?”

Grillby nodded tiredly, and Amathea sighed.

“That boy’s a miracle when he wants to be,” she said quietly, “How many monsters would’ve died today if he wasn’t here?”

She smirked and nudged her shoulder into Grillby’s, “And you giving him the magic to help all those people.”

Grillby flickered humbly, “I didn’t do a thing.”

“Tell that to the dozens of monsters still breathing in there,” Amathea said, her voice soft and tired, “You’ve done a mighty thing today Grillby. Not all victories are carved with steel and dust, you know.”

The elemental nodded, letting the thought sink in. What they’d done, what _Gaster_ had done, really it was miraculous. The magic Gaster could do was new and groundbreaking, and a wonder on its own. And it had taken nothing short of a powerful elemental to charge it into a mighty tool. Of course, it was a struggle for Grillby to think of himself as truly powerful - there had to be dozens of elementals out there mightier than he was. But he was the most powerful monster in the camp, possibly for camps miles around. Even if he felt shaky and sick now, it was worth it knowing what he’d helped accomplish.

“You were a wonder yourself you now,” Grillby smiled, “I mean, honestly we’d probably have been lost without you.”

Amathea’s gaze dropped to her feet, that forlorn expression reclaiming her features.

“You okay, Ammy?”

“Honestly tinderbox, I’m not rightly sure,” she sighed, frowning, “I wasn’t prepared for that.”

Grillby nodded solemnly, remembering the shock it had been walking into the tent and being assaulted by the sights, sounds, smells. The horror of it all had almost been overwhelming, only the distraction caused by Gaster’s work keeping his mind grounded. If it hadn’t been for that constant tugging on his soul snapping up his attention, he probably would’ve gone into some kind of horrified shock from it all. He’d never seen that side of war before.

“That was new to you too huh?”

“Aye. Last time I was in the thick of that mess, I was the one getting worked on,” Amathea’s lips twisted into a bitter sort of half-snarl, “I was too far gone to really know what was happening back then, but not this time. That was all a bit of a shock. And there was Gaster, walking about as casually as if he’d been there all his life. I’d love to know how he manages to cope with all that.”

Amathea scowled, blinking despondently into the fire, “Monsters died in there, Grillby. I mean, I’ve seen monsters die before. I understand it just happens, that there’s nothing I can do about it sometimes. But they were _so close_ to making it. They were right there.”

She reached her hand out towards nothing, fingers grasping at something that didn’t exist, “If there had just been some way to help them hold on, to hold all their pieces together until someone could get to them…”

Amathea sighed, letting her arm fall back to rest on her knee again, “It’s not fair, Grillby.”

For a long while, neither of them said anything. Amathea was collapsing slowly into herself, her thoughts distracted by what she’d just seen. Grillby had never seen her looking so small. He… actually couldn’t remember a time he’d seen her so distraught over anything. She was always so zealous and wild, strong willed and proud. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who commanded giants. This wasn’t the Amathea he was used to. This Amathea was tired and sad, and crumbling a little on the inside - and a little intimidating because of it.

Though if he were completely honest with himself, Grillby had to admit there was a growing tenseness humming through him, his own emotions slowly tilting themselves out of place. What he’d been too tired to rightly remember was slowly creeping up on him, like the cool drop in temperature in the shadow of a building storm. As the silence stretched between them, it twisted in his gut like an icy knife and set his fire in miserable hues of purple and red.

“I uh… saw you singing,” Grillby said quietly, trying one last effort to distract himself from the twisting emotions. The fish monster gave a dismal nod.

“Aye. It… probably wasn’t my place to do that,” she said slowly, “But Gaster was busy, and even if he wasn’t, I doubt he would have made it over to help that poor creature before…”

She ushered her hand in front of her in a helpless sort of gesture, as if the motion could finish the sentence for her, “She was in a lot of pain. I figured I could at least soften it a little. Make it a little more peaceful. Honestly I probably shouldn’t have intervened.”

Grillby gulped down a growing lump in his throat before murmuring, “I think it was right. I mean… if it were me in the same place… I would appreciate it.”

Amathea’s frills twitched and her gills gave a shaky flare as she took in an unsteady breath. She paused, holding her breath for a moment, and Grillby tilted his head in her direction questioningly.

“Grillby you little _gobshite!_ ” Amathea shouted suddenly, her voice an angry snarl. The elemental flinched as she made a move to smack him - she missed - before she huffed out a bitter breath through her flaring gills and buried her face as best she could in her hand.

“You don’t _say_ things like that to people!” her voice quivered even in spite of the indignant tone in it. Grillby blinked at her rapidly, sparks flying in his surprise.

“I’m sorry! I was just - are… are you _crying?!”_

Amathea gave him the nastiest glare she could muster, even as she furiously wiped away tears, “Aye ya _gobermouch_ , I’m _crying!_ What did you expect me to do, with you spewing fool-born sentimental codswallop like that!?”

Grillby sputtered incredulously for a second, unable to form any sort of reply. Then with a crackling snort he burst out laughing, sparks shivering through the air. It made his chest hurt just from the jittering movement, but for the life of him he couldn’t stop himself. A mighty shove from Amathea sent him over on his side, and Grillby curled up there laughing and hugging his chest, and finally crying because he was laughing too hard and that _hurt_. Molten tears sizzled on the ground as he laughed, burning little circles into the ground before they fizzled out like sparks. Grillby could feel Amathea glowering at him even still, and it just made him want to laugh all the more.

“You - _ahaha!_ \- you’re so angry!” Grillby finally managed, a hand clutched to his chest painfully as he started to still the fitful giggles, “Because I made you _cry?_ ”

He got a grumbled reply that he couldn’t really hear - though he was sure insults were involved. Finally he managed to calm down enough to sit back up, flickering a grin at her bitter and indignant frown.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled as apologetically as he could manage, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Yeah, well you won’t expect the punch in the gut I’m gonna give you later either,” Amathea grumbled back, though there was the faintest spark of humor in her eye, the twitch of a contained smirk at the edge of her mouth. Grillby held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“I said I was sorry. _Please_ don’t ambush me later,” he said with a quiet chuckle, “Though, I did mean what I said, all laughing aside.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Amathea huffed, her smile finally breaking the surface of her lips to flash those bright yellow teeth in Grillby’s direction, “In eight thousand years when you finally start to flicker out, I’ll be sure to do you the favor.”

“ _Pfff!_ I _highly_ doubt I’ll live that long,” Grillby said with a crackle of sparks, “Especially if those mages have anything to say about it.”

“Oh don’t you even go there,” Amathea said, shoving Grillby playfully - and noticeably gentler than before, “You’ll jinx yourself, for one thing. But you elementals will probably outlive the rest of the world if you try hard enough. If anyone will see the end of this war, it’s going to be you.”

Grillby shot Amathea a withering smile, “I’d rather not see the end of it alone, you know.”

Amathea shrugged, “You’ll have to take that one up with fate. But I know I’m not planning on going anywhere. And neither is Gaster.”

“Good to know,” the elemental hummed.

Amathea slowly got to her feet, yawning and stretching and swaying on her heels for a moment before steadying herself again, “Well, I’m going to sleep. I was hoping to welcome Gaster back as well, but it looks like he won’t be turning in anytime soon. You should get some sleep too, tinderbox.”

Grillby nodded after her as she shambled into their tent. He took his time absorbing the fire Amathea had built before finally hauling himself to his feet and following after her. He collapsed onto the ground in the tent, making himself as comfortable as he possibly could before dousing his flame and willing himself to sleep.

Grillby didn’t know how much time had passed before a shuffling outside woke him up. His senses took a moment to drag their way into awareness - enough time for the shuffling outside to make its way inside. Gaster stumbled into the tent, taking one sweeping look around to remember he hadn’t had time to set up his bed before he’d left to work on the wounded monsters. He settled on plopping face-down on the ground beside Grillby. The elemental gave a flustered spark when the bitter smell of dust and magic washed over him.

“Gaster _why?_ ” Grillby whined in a childish whisper, turning over on his side to face away from the skeleton.

“Oh deal with it,” Gaster’s voice mumbled back at him, muffled against the fabric of his sleeves as he pillowed his arms beneath his chin, “You don’t smell like rose water yourself.”

Grillby let out an irritable crackle, a few sparks sputtering tiredly as he did so. He dimmed his fire a bit, hoping to get a little more sleep before the sun rose - however soon that had to be at this point.

“You know, for all that mess, I think I know what happens next now,” Gaster sighed quietly; his voice a hoarse and exhausted whisper.

“What are you talking about?”

“There were about as many monsters suffering in there from burns and frostbite as there was from flesh wounds,” Gaster elaborated.

“Frostbite?”

“Nasty damage that happens when your body gets too cold,” Gaster hummed under his breath tiredly, “Makes your skin turn black.”

Grillby blinked confusedly before rolling over to face the skeleton, his fire lilting into confused colors, “But it’s not cold enough for that, not this early in autumn at least.”

Gaster raised the ridge above his eye, frowning a silent question in the elemental’s direction. Grillby hissed out a bitter breath.

“Magic?”

“ _Strong_ magic, probably from our other mage,” Gaster sighed, burying his face in his arms, “And ten gold says they’re gonna be _pissed_ when they find out what happened to their friend - if they aren’t already.”

“Sounds like loads of fun,” Grillby said with a low grown, turning onto his back to try and fall asleep again.

“Let’s just hope ‘loads of fun’ doesn’t happen until we want it to,” came the skeleton’s bitter reply. Grillby didn’t bother answering back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand it's been awhile since I hit you guys with my research, so I'll go ahead and throw some stuff at you!
> 
> As far as the last few chapters are involved - surgery was in fact a thing during the middle ages (I only touched on it in passing though). It's actually been a thing in some form or another since around 600 CE, I think. And it was actually performed wayyyy before we knew anything about antiseptic or painkillers. So let that haunt your nightmares a bit.
> 
> Anyway! Surgery up until modern medicine started kicking in was basically a 'the faster you go, the better off you are' kinda deal. You were trying to finish your work before your patient had the chance to bleed out. The record for fastest surgery was set by Dr. Robert Liston, who amputated a leg in less than 3 minutes. He also managed to cut off his assistant's finger in the process (and if I remember right is the only surgeon alive to have a 300% mortality rate in a surgery, as 3 people died during one of his operations, at least one of them being an assistant of some sort).
> 
> For the universe I've built up here, the same would apply to healing magic. The faster you work, the better the chances of survival. Which is why Gaster moves so fast while he's stitching up souls!
> 
> For this chapter in particular: you have no idea how much time I've sunk into looking up medieval insults that never actually made it into this chapter, for various reasons. Though I did find out most insults back in the day involved calling people out on their birth/heritage/insulting their family, as well as profaning God - back then they believed profanities involving holy things would actually phisically separate the body of Christ from God. So don't take the Lord's name in vain unless you really mean it kids!
> 
> They actually didn't care all that much about bodily functions, so they might look at you funny if you threw 'shit' or 'fuck' out there and expected to sound intimidating.
> 
> Tinier tidbit here: rose water was an actual medieval perfume. Yes they had tons of perfumes in the middle ages, and not just for the wealthy either. They also had scented baths, and public bath houses, and hot water if you warmed it up yourself. They might not have bathed every day like we tend to, but they still put a lot of stock in cleanliness.
> 
> It's kind of weird to me that we know this and still mostly think people in the middle ages lived in their own filth. I mean, it's still kinda dingy compaired to modern standards, but it was awesome for them back in the day!


	24. Hopelessness exists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn a few things about how frail monsters can be  
> And we prepare for an advancement of the plot

The next week sprawled out before them hitching and hazy. For Grillby it was a strange mix of highs and lows, where he spent his louder, people filled moments feeling at relative ease while his quieter moments were filled with a strange sort of empty. The fiasco in the medical tent had chipped away a bit more at him than he’d figured it would, and a hanging cloud of memory at its events seemed to hover over his shoulder persistently. It tangled with Amathea’s words about how unfair it all seemed, and made his world seem a little more dismal than it had before. It didn't help that Gaster spent almost every waking moment back in the medical tents tending to the wounded. Whenever Grillby even thought of the place he felt a shudder go through his core and a phantom smell of dust ghost-like in the air around him.

With Gaster working and Amathea already busying herself with finding their next destination, Grillby was often finding himself alone. Though the silence gave him a chance to recover his magic, so he supposed he could find a bright side even in this if he had to.

Grillby passed his time training - which was a _lot_ more boring when done alone - and sewing on the project he'd started what now felt like eons ago. Begrudgingly he broke down and asked for some advice from Amathea, who chuckled at him but took a few minutes to help him along. She was fairly decent at sewing apparently, though she required a little assistance with making sure the fabric was held in the right place while she worked.

The morning Grillby put the finishing touches on it was the morning Amathea and the other commanders found their new heading - a site to the North West where a large army was advancing. According to the ghosts scattered across the area, there was a mage among them that was leading their advances, the imposing size of the army and might of the magician making short work of most forces in their path. Several smaller monster armies had been forced to retreat and converge further south, and messengers had been sent out for reinforcements and, if possible, an elemental. They were to be packed and on their way immediately, and Grillby was sent to retrieve Gaster before they moved out. There was no time to lose.

Grillby shuddered when he entered those healing tents again. It was a lot emptier inside now, many of the monsters having recovered after the nearly constant work of the doctors in the camp. Some still slept on cots or lay boredly waiting for help, arms or legs held with splints and slings as the slow process of healing broken bones took place. Even with green magic helping, some things took more time than others to fix. It took a few seconds to pick out which of the dark-robed figures hovering over patients in the room was Gaster.

The elemental picked his way gingerly through the maze of cots and monsters, sometimes exchanging a nod or pleasant word offered to him by nurses or doctors as he passed them by. When he found Gaster he stopped short, fire lilting into confused and distressed colors.

The skeleton was working on someone. Grillby could see the delicate magical cord joining both Gaster’s and the monster’s souls together. Shortly to the left of Gaster sat a monster, shoulders hunched and head bowed brokenly. There was the subtlest hitch in their breath that told Grillby they were crying. Gaster said something quietly to them in a hushed voice, and with a silent nod they left, brushing past the elemental in their hurry. Grillby watched them dash out of the tent, his fire colored confused and dismayed. When he turned back to Gaster, the monster he’d been working on was gone, the cot they’d been lying on now lined with a fine layer of dust.

Gaster heaved out a tense sigh before drawing himself up and turning away from the sight before him. He paused when he saw Grillby, blinking a few times in surprise, before finally moving towards him.

“Did Ammy send you over here to get me?” Gaster asked in a low voice.

Grillby nodded, “Uh… do you need me to come back later?”

Gaster was already moving past him though, and with one last glance back at the dusty cot Grillby followed. Outside, the skeleton heaved in a deep breath, re-centering himself.

“You okay Gaster?”

“As okay as I can be,” Gaster responded, a weary smile curling across his face, “I’m _definitely_ ready for a break though. And a nap. A nap sounds fantastic.”

Grillby blinked at the skeleton in muted surprise, “You _sure_ you’re alright? After that?”

Gaster shrugged.

“Can I ask what happened?”

Gaster whistled a harsh noise out through his teeth before signing slowly, “There wasn’t anything left I could do.”

He paused, thinking for a moment before continuing, “There wasn’t anything _physically_ wrong with them - if there was I could have fixed it. But what they had was more like a sickness of the soul. It was lowering all of their stats slowly over time until eventually there just wasn’t anything left. When a monster falls like that, there’s nothing I can do. There isn’t enough left of the soul for me to heal without completely rebuilding it - and I’m not even sure if that’s possible to do.”

“That’s terrible,” Grillby said quietly, “What kind of sickness can even do that?”

Gaster splayed his hands out in front of him helplessly before saying, “They lost hope Grillby.”

Grillby felt a flicker of surprise and confusion glance through him. But just as quickly as he felt it, it washed away. It made sense for a sickness like that to exist. Monster bodies were very deeply connected with their souls, so much so that any damage to one could affect the other. If the soul decided it couldn’t go on, what was there to stop the body from just unraveling into dust?

“I’m not used to seeing it, honestly,” Gaster sighed, “In the refugee camp I worked in, monsters were always fleeing to safety. They were looking ahead to protection or freedom, to something better. It was very few and far in between that I ever ran into a monster that had lost all hope. Here though… some of these monsters have been fighting for years. Some of them don’t think it’s worth it anymore. Some of them can’t see any end to the suffering that’s going on here. Monsters that have fallen down like this, there’s nothing I can do to fix them. I can heal a lot of things, but unfortunately the will to live isn’t one of them.”

Grillby gave a thoughtful nod before asking again, “... and you’re sure you’re okay?”

To this, Gaster shrugged, “Honestly Grillby, it’s very hard to feel true grief for a monster you’ve never met. I’m sad I couldn’t help, and I’m sorry for the monsters that have to live through the loss. But there’s not much more I can feel for them.”

Grillby nodded, finally letting Gaster lead them away. Gaster’s answer didn’t set right with him. There was a _wrongness_ in how apathetic it seemed. Grillby heaved a soft sigh - that was probably why he’d never be a doctor. Even besides the fact that Grillby couldn’t use green, there was no way he could distance himself enough from the deaths that inevitably happened, or the monsters left behind to grieve for them. Gaster was a lot stronger than the elemental was in that aspect at least.

Gaster let out a soft chuckle as he walked, a bitter smile lighting up his features, “You think Ammy will let me change clothes before we leave? I smell like hospital tent.”

With a jolt and a flicker, Grillby started shuffling through his inventory, “I actually might be able to help with that…”

After a moment or two of rifling around in his inventory slots - why _did_ he have so many of those anyway? - Grillby proudly produced what he’d been working on for so long. It was a long robe not unlike the ones Gaster normally wore, a dark black in color with a lighter grey sash that could be tied across the waist. The most notable feature though, unique to this robe, was that there were a pair of pockets sewn into the fabric at the sides where Gaster’s hands would fall. The skeleton blinked at this in surprise for a moment, before smiling and equipping the new garment. It fell across him a little loosely - they might have to ask Amathea to help them tailor it a bit eventually.

Gaster looked down at the pockets, a question in the expression on his face, “Any particular reason why those are there?”

“Well, Ammy’s always trying to get you to stop talking with your hands while you’re fighting,” Grillby said with an apprehensive flicker, “And I thought since you couldn’t really break the habit, that maybe if you had someplace to put your hands…?”

As he spoke, Gaster slipped his hands into his pockets, looking down at this novel idea and marveling at the thought put behind it. His eyes lit up in the bruised purple color of his magic, and bone attacks crackled to life in the air around him. The skeleton’s arms twitched as he tried to keep his hands still in his pockets, but whatever silent command he gave the attacks still executed itself as naturally as if he’d been signing. They spun and then slammed into the ground at Gaster’s feet, disappearing with a crackling fizzle of spent magic.

The skeleton gave a broad grin, “Grillby, this is great! I mean, it’ll take some getting used to but… this helps. This helps a lot.”

Gaster’s grin twisted mischievously, “And now I’ll kick your butt when we spar!”

Grillby chuckled, shoving the skeleton playfully in the shoulder, “As if.”

Laughing quietly amongst themselves, the mood between them lightening slightly, the two made their way back to camp - and to an impatient Amathea who had already torn apart and packed their tent and was ushering them faster on their way.

The new march they embarked on was undertaken as quickly as possible, the tone infinitely more serious. They moved in a stiff and hurried march, leaving behind the supply trains that followed at the slow constant pace the oxen could keep. At the speed they moved, what would be a week or more’s walk for the oxen they might even manage in a few days - especially since they no longer had to navigate animals and carts through trees or down hills. Their driving objective was reaching the other armies before the humans could pin them down and destroy them.

There was something in the way the commanders urged the armies faster, something in the rush in the air that told Grillby the coming battle was going to be an important one. Something about where it was located, and how fast they needed to get there to make sure the site didn’t fall. Though the only thing he could discern on his own without a map and a head for planning was that they were uncomfortably far south. These humans were a force to reckon with if they’d manage to move the entire front line back.

They were so close now. Scouts were spotting signs of battle. They could smell magic and smoke in the air. The tangled mass of monsters that spread out as they marched were organized into rank and file, with Amathea’s little company unnervingly close to the front. Of course, this was the safest place for Grillby to be. They further in the front he was, the easier it was to keep his fire hitting the humans instead of the monsters standing around him. What he worried about was Gaster. Amathea was a commander. She’d stood on the front lines before. But Gaster had already said he’d never been a part of a real battle before. With a nervous flicker, Grillby decided he would have to keep an eye on him as best he could during the chaos of what was going to happen next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much for me to really say here except this is a sorry excuse for a chapter from a very sorry writer.  
> It does establish some things that will be important later though, so it still serves its purpose. I'm just not very happy with how it transitions into the next scene - which is the start of another set of scenes I've been dying to write for awhile.
> 
> Hngh.
> 
> Also very sorry for how late this ended up being! I was really exhausted after we got home from the con Sunday night, and Monday was spent getting used to being at work again while recovering from con exhaustion. I got some of the chapter written, but with how little I managed to work on it over the weeked, it just wasn't enough to call it finished.
> 
> And even now I don't like to call it finished yet. Ergh. This might be a chapter I come back and edit later.


	25. Day One of the Battle at Happy Valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grillby looks like a pin cushion and we all get to laugh at that mental image.  
> What do you mean that's not funny? I think that's funny!
> 
> Oh yeah, and also story time with Amathea!  
> Plot-twist! //whispering voice// She's probably telling the truth

Grillby knelt crouched between a pair of trees, his flame cast as low as he could manage it as he waited for Amathea to give the signal. To his right, Gaster knelt beside him, a skeletal hand gripping the elemental's shoulder as if it could reassure him. It clawed nervously at his armor, but Grillby knew better than to ask Gaster to move it, not now while there was nothing to distract him from the feeling of dread building in the air. Behind them both, Grillby could hear the soft crunching and scuffling as the rest of the army shifted nervously, waiting for the other commanders down the line to give their final order. They were just beneath the crest of a hill, hidden from view in the thick trees that rimmed its surface. On the other side of it, the battle they'd been meant to intercept had already begun. They were late.

But their lateness did afford them an opportunity - an opportunity Amathea and the other commanders intended to exploit. The humans had no idea they were en route. They wouldn't know they existed until the new army was swooping down on top of them. That was what they were setting up now. As the shouts and clashes of battle rung muffled in the distance before them, and the smell of magic and smoke pervaded the air, the commanders enacted their one last scheme before joining the fray. They had gathered up every ice-using monster in the shambling force, instructing them in making a slow creep of frigid magic. It poured down into the valley below in a slow creep that glazed over the grass, just barely visible as a shimmering coating in the midday sun.

A whistle sounded low up ahead and Grillby snapped his head towards it. Amathea was loping over to him, her body stooped low just in case someone should catch the glint of her armor over the hillside. She slid to a halt in the pine needles and dying leaves that carpeted the ground, grinning at Grillby with that golden smile.

"Ready to go tinderbox?" she asked in a harsh sort of whisper, ear frills twitching with glee, "They'll be sounding the charge in a few minutes."

"Is this really necessary?" the elemental hissed back at her with a quiet spark, "We could already be down there you know!"

Amathea let out a growl of a chuckle, "Trust me Grillby, this is worth the extra minutes. Cover will keep our momentum going."

Her face split open in an exhilarated grin, "And it'll make one hell of an entrance!"

Grillby shook his head, sparking in annoyance, "Whatever you say."

"As long as it doesn't get us killed, I'm all for it," Gaster muttered with a nervous laugh.

Amathea gave Gaster a hearty pat on the back, "You just stay close to me and Grillby. We've seen enough of this mess to get you through the other end of it. Just for heaven's sakes, don't go chasing some fool human and getting yourself trapped with a bunch of them! More good monsters fall to that mistake then I'd care to admit to."

Gaster nodded, his hand squeezing Grillby's shoulder one last time before finally letting go. He stuffed both his hands in his pockets and frowned at the crest of the hill before him. A loud thump shook the air, knocking twice into one of the trees above them. The hulking form of Brigg rose to his full height on the hilltop, the dragon's tail hitting a final knock into the tree beside him and echoing down the hillside. Amathea sprung up instantly, dashing forward.

"Everything's in place!" she chimed over her shoulder, "Let's go!"

Grillby was on his feet in an instant, following in the commander's footsteps with Gaster fast on his heels. Behind him he could hear the shift in the forest as every monster behind them did the same, orders slowly relaying themselves down the ranks. A creeping feeling of nervousness twisted its way around Grillby's core, gripping him ever tighter as he reached the crest of the hill. For a ways below him, sprawled out like pieces on a game board he could see humans and monsters battling. The line of them stretched for as far as he could see across the valley below, an undulating mass of mixing banners, creatures and magic. The sun glanced across weapons and armor, moving flashes marking the paths of the fighting. Scattered at the backs of the front lines reinforcements marched and messengers ran, relaying orders and readying to spring forward should any point across the line break. Grillby was impressed by just how many bodies were down there. Though he realized with a malcontented flicker that in the mess of people below, there was no way he could decipher if the mage he was looking for had even made an appearance yet.

Amathea motioned for Grillby to move, and the elemental nodded, switching his gaze to the grass down the side of the hilltop they stood upon. The fine layer of ice that coated it was hardly noticeable, a dew-like shimmer that was quickly melting in sunlight. The elemental sighed out a breath, sending snake-like tendrils of fire down to it, the white-hot attacks singeing the grass before meeting the cool ice and erupting into a cloud of smoke and steam. The hissing cloud cascaded into the valley, and with a final order the monsters standing on the hill moved to follow it.

Any humans who saw the cloud would have no idea the host behind it, nor what creatures helped it come into existence. They could hardly pick out the straggling figures as the last of the group began their descent to join the rest. It was a good plan, worth the wait for the extra moment of surprise where any generals of the human's armies would be unawares as to what exactly was entering the field past the creeping cloud. Grillby still thought it was a bit _showy_ though. And it impeded _everyone's_ vision, not just the humans' they were trying to outflank.

They were three-quarters of the way down the hill when the call was made to run, and suddenly their concealed march rolled into a forward charge. Grillby felt the wind fan his flame hotter, sparks and tendrils of it spreading in the air behind him as the nervousness in his core hardened into a rush of determination and cool acceptance. He could feel Gaster at his side, the skeleton's fleet steps keeping pace with Grillby as they charged. Just shortly ahead of him, Amathea punched a fist forward, an enthusiastic screech on her teeth, clawed fingers wrapping around one of her spears as it crackled to life. Grillby huffed out a smoking breath, fiery spear-like attacks sparking to life near his shoulders. He slipped his shield from his inventory and onto his arm just as the first human sprung into view, materializing just as their makeshift fog began to disperse.

Grillby hunched his shoulder behind his shield and crashed into the unawares human with his full momentum and weight, sending him flying to the side with a crunch of breaking bone and a startled scream. In a fluid motion the elemental pivoted around to the next he saw, sword rising into his hand and striking fiercely into the weak spot in the human's armor right where his arm met his torso. With a harsh sigh, Grillby released the flaming spears he'd been holding in reserve into the crowd before him, slamming one into a clump of warriors who had just turned to meet the new menace, the second scattering a few more. By the time his momentum began to ebb away, Grillby was in the middle of a crowd of humans, sword and spear points bristling in his direction as the startled host finally managed to turn and face the charging mass of monsters that had slammed into its side.

The bright shimmer of blue and teal blossomed to life then, Amathea's hail of spears diving from the heavens a staggering rain of armor-shattering intent that sent humans diving out of the way and lifting shields wearily above their heads. In its wake bone attacks leaped from the ground, impaling human bodies on their sharpened points as Gaster took advantage of the opening in defense that Amathea created. The skeleton kept his hands stubbornly in his pockets, a nervous smile dancing on his teeth as he skirted away from the falling sword-stroke of one of the surviving humans. With a purple flash of the skeleton's magic, Gaster had the human shattered on a dozen bones.

Grillby marched stubbornly forward, patterning parries with his shield and lunges with his sword alongside vicious fire attacks that ravaged both the creatures close to him and those he could see to shoot farther away. His whole body echoed a grim frown, his fire stoked hot enough to burn his armor in smelted reds and golds and scorch the ground he stepped on. It boiled and seared away the blood that spattered on him whenever his sword fell and stung him with the bittersweet smell it left behind. There was a tireless hum reverberating in Grillby's core, driving him step by persistent step forward. And while he worked his eyes darted back and forth between Amathea and Gaster, keeping a sharp look for if either of them stumbled or reeled from the shock of losing HP.

His friends were strong though, and for all his worries about Gaster the skeleton seemed to be holding his own. He was a flurry of movement, dancing steps that deftly evaded sword strokes and spears and a keen eye that reserved attacks only for the most opportune moments. Gaster sent as many humans to their graves as he incapacitated with clever stabs to the joints at their legs. After all, a man who fell injured was just as useless in a fight as those who fell dead. It was only a matter of making sure the wound was severe enough to keep them down.

Meanwhile Amathea was making herself a beast of a warrior, timing her attacks in crushing waves that sent humans staggering away from her, reeling and regrouping in an attempt to find safety in numbers. The few that made it through her seemingly impenetrable fortress of crackling spears were met with the grip of green magic, or the most soul-rending magical screech that Grillby had ever heard. Twice he felt the sound of it go off with a heavy concussion nearby him, and each time he glanced over bewildered to watch as whatever human Amathea had been fighting with fell back lifeless before the grip of the magic in her voice, face contorted into looks of pain and awe from the shock of the sound.

It was disheartening watching how well they moved, how viciously they fought, only to have two, three, four more humans spring up where every single one fell. The further they cut into the forces before them, the denser the army of humans became. Slowly yet surely their momentum died off, drawing their entire force into a bitter stand-still of exchanging blows and magic as the humans rebounded and fought back tooth and nail. This was when battling got trickier, when the final shock of their forward charge made way for the press of bodies and the slow grinding loss of life. This was when you had to stay conscious of your surroundings and pray that some turn in the tide of the battle didn't see you stranded amidst a sea of your enemies, alone and ready to be dusted.

It was then that the battle slowly started turning for the worse on the monster side, when their rugged standstill made way for the reinforcement troops standing behind the struggling line of humans to regroup with a plan. Grillby wouldn't have noticed it happening. He was too intent on the group of humans before him, on dashing their sword strokes away and reaching fiery attacks towards them, seeking to stagger an opening to split their ranks apart. It was Amathea, ear frills twitching and keen eyes glaring, who noticed the imperceptible shift in the way the line before her fought, shields made a little more ready and ranks closing a little tighter.

"Bowmen!" she screeched, her magic-laced voice carrying farther than any other commander Grillby had ever worked with. She instantly dropped to one knee, that magical shield of hers crackling to life as the high, shrill whistle of flying projectiles keened to life overhead. Grillby snapped his head up towards the sky, grimacing at the dark needle-thin lines that crossed each other in the sky. All down the line, humans lifted their shields to take shelter for a moment. Behind him, Grillby could hear shields and magic crackling and shifting as monsters scrambled to do the same. His gaze flicked to Gaster, the skeleton staggering back a step fearfully as his pinprick eyes locked on the flying projectiles as they traveled on their arc downward. He had a look of sheer panic plastered on his face, confused magic trying to decide how it was supposed to shield him from the coming onslaught.

Grillby jerked forward and grabbed him, clamping a hand around the skeleton's arm, throwing him to the ground and crouching beside him. The elemental hefted his shield higher, using it to shield Gaster's face and chest while the rest of his armored body stood between the falling bolts and his friend. There was a breathless pause as Grillby braced himself, before the bitter hail slammed down on top of them. Monsters behind them screamed and fell, but Grillby was too intent on holding his shield in place to bother looking back at them. His arm jarred with each arrow that pinged off his shield, his body shuddering from the impacts of the angry bolts. Those that hit his shield broke or skittered away, save for one that managed lodge itself shakily in the dents caused by the others. The tip of it stabbed bitterly at Grillby's hand through the back of the shield itself. A few more heavy hits jabbed themselves into Grillby's molten body, piercing through his chainmail with all the intent of the humans behind them. He stuttered out a sharp gasp as they punched into his core.

"Grillby?!" Gaster hissed, eyes darting nervously around at the arrows decorating the elemental into a molten pincushion. Grillby rolled his eyes.

"Oh I'm _fine_ ," the elemental spat past a shudder as he clamored to his feet, "That just feels so _uncomfortable_."

Gaster stumbled to his feet after him, a nervous grin on his teeth, "Well uncomfortable is better than dead I guess."

There was a lingering, panicky sort of worry clinging to the edge of Gaster's smile, and Grillby struggled not to scoff at it. He was an _elemental_ for heaven's sakes! And the arrows sure weren't made of ice or water.

"If you two _ladies_ are done _chatting about the weather_!" Amathea shouted at them, bringing their attention back to the present. She'd dropped her green magic, and with what remained of their line she was backing up, regrouping amongst the injured and dusted monsters caught in the hailstorm of arrows.

"Gaster! Target practice!" she ordered, pointing with her spear in a vague direction ahead to their right, "Grillby get ready to follow it up! We need to take out those archers before they throw another volley!"

"Right!" the two of them shouted in unison before scrambling into action. Gaster threw a hand out, directing the slow buildup of magic as it curled around him and piece by piece opened around his body in a cage of bones and slowly forming teeth. Grillby stepped close to him as a handful of humans surged towards them, alerted by the reek of powerful magic as the beastly blaster crackled to life. The elemental went to work with his sword and his fire, keeping them back as the last pieces of Gaster's skeletal dragon clicked into place and the blast of concentrated magic fired. The air was ripped apart by screams and the overwhelming stench of burning flesh.

The blast fizzled out, leaving a gap in the line of humans that quickly scrambled to reform itself again. But not before Grillby could get a good look at the line of archers standing back behind them, bows raised and arrowheads glittering just before their release. Grillby leaped into motion, a wave of fire coursing in the opening Gaster's attack had left behind. This time when the arrows released, only half the number of the last volley made it into the sky.

Gaster and Grillby sunk into a clockwork kind of tandem, filling the void the other left behind while Amathea gave them direction, her spears flooding in where they missed or rested. Grillby guarded the skeleton when he charged his heavy attacks, obliterating small portions of the line of humans before them, punching holes in their defense. And when he rested between attacks Grillby filled the magical void with waves and lances of flame. They stood together until their footsteps grew tired and their magic less ravenous and consuming.

Thankfully, mercifully, the sun began setting before exhaustion could shake them apart. A retreat was called, and as the remaining skirmishes on the field killed themselves off, each side retreated back.

"I don't understand," Gaster panted exhausted, "We're stopping? Did we win?"

"They retreated first," Grillby muttered, "I say we won the day."

"Nobody's _won_ , numbskull," Amathea growled, glancing nervously back over her shoulder as she led them back across to field where one of the larger groups of monsters was amalgamating itself together, "Not yet anyway. Just everyone knows you can't fight in the dark unless you're a ghost… or insane."

"So we just… stop? Take a break for the night?" Gaster laughed incredulously, "You're kidding."

Grillby shook his head tiredly, "Oh trust me, if you can sleep with _that_ bundle of joy just across the field, then you're crazier than the monsters fighting in the dark."

"Oh just be happy it's not a full moon," Amathea spat, her voice bitter and tired, "Give them enough to see by and humans will find a reason to keep tearing things apart."

She shot one last look over her shoulder before mumbling under her breath, "Damned determined things."

They stumbled their way along in the failing light, Grillby quickly becoming the only thing to illuminate their path. As they went, Amathea would occasionally pause to point Gaster to one fallen monster or another, checking to see if they'd fallen too far to make the walk back where they could get some form of mediocre help that could be afforded. Not many joined them.

Their camp for the night was a bitter makeshift shelter at the base of the valley, really only sheltered by the trees that grew nearby. It broke any wind that could sweep through, but still left them feeling strangely exposed without any barricades or walls to give the illusion of safety. A quick headcount was made, a basic scope of injured and fallen taken note of. They'd lost nearly a third of their number in one day to death or injury. Some nasty hope in Grillby's chest prayed the humans fared the same.

"I don't understand though," Gaster said, finding a flat enough piece of ground to sit on and settling down, "Isn't this battle supposed to end when you kill the mage? We didn't even see one."

"Well of course we didn't," Amathea tutted, ushering with her hand for Grillby to sit beside Gaster, "And if that mage is smart, they're going to cause as much grief as far away from Grillby as possible. Help me pick these arrows out of his armor, Gaster, he looks like an old maid's pin pillow."

Grillby flickered a smirk, holding patiently still as Gaster and Amathea went to work on his armor, wiggling arrows free of their clinging holds and breaking a few of the fragile shafts in the process. Meanwhile Grillby got to work on the one stuck in his shield, grimacing as he tried to pull it free without damaging the thing even more.

"Fighting won't stop just because the mage dies either," Grillby hummed, "Well… it might. It'll hit their moral pretty bad. But they've still got the numbers left to ravage us if the battle goes right for them. If their commanders can maintain enough control they'll keep fighting."

"Well that _sucks_ ," Gaster growled as he ripped an arrow free from where it had lodged itself by Grillby's neck. He twisted the deadly little point in his hand for a moment, frowning slowly.

"Uh… thank you… by the way."

Gaster chuckled a crackle, sparks shimmering away from his form, "For what? Throwing you in the dirt?"

Gaster gave him a soft shove, "For saving my _life_. I'd be dust right now if it weren't for you."

Grillby shrugged, dragging an annoyed growl from Amathea as she tried to yank another arrow from its place, "Don't worry about it. Everyone freezes up at some point. Fighting like that gets to you, especially when you're pretty sure you're about to die."

The ridge above Gaster's unbroken eye rose, "Really? _Everyone_ freezes up like a complete moron when they're fighting?"

Grillby flashed in nervous, hesitant colors, "Well I mean… _I_ didn't. But… I'm _really_ weird. I'm sure Ammy's done it before. Right Ammy?"

"Aye sure I have," the fish monster growled triumphantly as she finally broke free the arrow she'd been menacing, "At the absolute worst time too."

Gaster gave an incredulous laugh, and Amathea grinned.

"Don't believe me do you? Ask Thetis, she'll let you know about it all right. My siblings and I came south on a boat, looking to destroy ourselves a couple of seaside villages on a little adventure. Got ourselves caught in a storm right of the coast. And to make matters worse, a big scaly sea dragon decided we were a tasty morsel!" the commander let out a satisfied tut as she pulled the last arrow in Grillby's armor free, "So there I was on the prow of our fine sea beauty. Staring into the big eye of that overgrown beasty. And Thetis and my brother Irade were yelling at me to sing. If ya just sing at the beasty you stupid girl it'll let us go and we can make shore!"

She heaved a dreamy sigh, remembering, "And I froze up like ice. Couldn't even scream I was so scared. Of course, that's when my older brother Ghirdam swooped in to save the day with those magic chains of his. Tied the great beasty's mouth shut while Thetis poked it full so full of holes it couldn't float anymore. A couple of the crew set us onshore gentle as a feather. I was so shaken up when they set us down I started bawling like a wee lass who's just had her heart broken at the spring fair."

Both Grillby and Gaster blinked at Amathea for a moment, watching as she smiled wistfully at the memory as if she were talking about a Sunday breakfast.

"You're _joking_ ," Gaster breathed incredulously, and Amathea rolled her eyes.

"Oh alright, so maybe I exaggerated the crying a bit," she harrumphed, "But I _did_ cry when we made landfall. Tears of _disappointment_. You know how long Ghir lorded that damn rescue over me?!"

"She's not joking," Grillby chuckled.

"Say Ammy, is there _anything_ you do that doesn't involve some wild death-defying adventure?" Gaster snorted. The commander fixed him in a vicious grin.

"Not if I can help it!" she chimed grandly, getting to her feet, "Now you two cumberworlds get yourself some rest while you still can. It'll be a long fight tomorrow, and you've a better chance of living through it if you've slept even a little."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm counting this as a Thursday update because I haven't been to sleep yet so obviously it isn't Friday yet. Right? I can do that. That works.
> 
> So first thing is I really really wanted to get some audio for you guys to play during this chapter but gosh darn it if I couldn't find something that fit. Hit me with ideas if you have something that does though!
> 
> And onto our history lesson for this week:
> 
> (First fun fact is - I'm naming this the Battle of Happy Valley because that's the only war story my Papa ever told me and my sister. I don't know why you'd ever name a battle that, especially if you hear how unsettling his story was, but it's made it into the title nonetheless)
> 
> Onward to the rest of the history here!
> 
> So all the fighting/troop movement information I've used for this has been a strange slash/mix of American Civil War stuff, Roman advancements and battle tactics, and what I can find of Medieval battling basics. It's really hard to actually write this stuff without doing extensive study, and most of the information I'm finding online is vague. I did watch a few reenactment clips though, and possibly some LofR battle scenes. Probably not the most accurate but hey, I can try.
> 
> Anyway what I'm saying here is my battles are written mostly for coolness levels and not for accuracy levels (or as accurate as you can go with a war between magical creatures and humans) like I've been doing before.
> 
> First thing I've got for ya is: most troops didn't see battle. Those 10,000 people armies? A fraction of them actually saw fighting. That's the front lines of the fight, where two armies meet. The lines behind them will hopefully act as reinforcements and switch out with tired soldiers in the front who have been fighting for too long (which historically, according to Roman conquest, meant fighting for 20-30 minutes at a time. But this is fantasy dang it and I say they can fight half the day and no one can stop me! Real talk though - Grillby in this story canon can keep going until his magic exhausts itself, which is hard for him to do unless Gaster is forcibly yanking it out of him. And normal monsters I believe would function in the same way, but just with a drastically smaller pool of magic at their disposal. I mean, Sans fights for 10 minutes straight and he's in mediocre shape and has a medium(?) pool of magic at his disposal. Think how long a monster like Undyne or Asgore could keep fighting you at!). Anyway! Other uses for the back lines involved moving wounded to safety, relaying messages, and depending on the army sometimes that meant the generals were back there. The monster armies keep their commanders at the front with the fighting (obviously) but a lot of battle tactics had commanders sitting in tents at the back, watching and making calls from there.
> 
> Another coolthing you'll like to know is for every day a soldier spends in battle they spend like 2 weeks going between camps and transitioning to the battle field. Most soldiers actually didn't see that much drama. Now long sieges are different, but we're not counting those right now.
> 
> And yes, battles did stop at nightfall. Sometimes that decided who won actually! It was kinda like an elaborate game of chicken. Whoever decides its too dark outside and runs first loses.


	26. The Second Day of Happy Valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the irony behind the way the author titles things finally becomes apparent

The next morning they were up shortly before dawn, organizing into rank and file and preparing to greet whatever the dawn brought to them. The second day of battle was always the day that Grillby noticed the gap between him and other monsters - as rude as it was to view it like that. He himself felt fatigued, like his meager rest during the night hadn’t been enough to recharge his magic. And with nothing but hard tack and dried meat available for them to eat as a breakfast, he found his reserve of magic feeling a little emptier than it normally would be. Overall though, he felt ready to fight again.

The monsters around him were a different story. Those that had survived the fight of the day before looked exhausted, sore. There was weariness in the way they carried themselves as they roused for the bleak coming day. Even Gaster and Amathea suffered from it, though Amathea seemed to be faring better than the skeleton did. The fish monster, though obviously worn and sore from the day before, exuded a tireless and rousing sort of enthusiasm. She spoke encouraging words to the monsters around her, shared in their pain, complained softly about bruises or scrapes she’d received and boasted about the victory they were sure to gain today. Meanwhile Gaster trudged along looking a lot like he was half asleep - or at the very least trying to be. He’d used his blasters a lot the day before. Grillby figured he was probably just about spent.

“So uh… I know you’re probably going to ignore this,” Grillby hummed, “But, you do know no one will blame you if you rotate to the back, right?”

Gaster let out a loud scoff, “What, and leave you up here to have all the fun by yourself?”

“Yeah, good death-y fun. While you’re already half dust from exhaustion already.”

The skeleton waved a hand dismissively, “I am _not_. I just… need a minute.”

He blinked ahead at the field spread out before them, at the trampled ground and shapeless forms of armor and weapons and formless lumps of bodies that littered the expanse. A nervous scowl wormed it’s way across his teeth.

“Today is going to be hell,” Gaster finally said, and Grillby smirked.

“Well at least you’re enthusiastic.”

An arm draped itself around Gaster’s neck, and suddenly Amathea was in between them, her teeth bared in a bitter smile, “Good, keep your enthusiasm! The more you want to win, the better your odds are.”

She stepped in front of them, assuming her place along the line. Amathea squared her shoulders and braced her feet against the ground, her fist on her hip as she took a deep breath of the morning air.

“Keep your intent strong and your wits about you, lads,” Amathea cried, gills flaring, “With our hearts and souls all rousing together, we can’t lose!”

Grillby crackled a soft laugh, letting his spirits lift just a little. Gaster flashed a nervous grin, hands sinking into his pockets as a horn blast sounded in the distance.

“I hope you’re right, Ammy,” he mumbled.

“Aye of course I’m right!” Amathea chimed, “Humans are strong lad, but they’re nothing before us if we stand together.”

Amathea’s smile waned into something more like a snarl as the humans began marching into view, the morning sun setting their armor ablaze with color. From where they stood now, their numbers looked impressive, their front line spread out across the valley in a wide fan. The center of their line curved closer than the rest, a giant arrowhead marching towards the monster force. They were imposing, and armored shell of an advance with heavy shield and lance bearers at the front. Banners from different army houses caught in the breeze weakly, the still air doing little to lift them. Grimness hung about them in a cloud. Grillby scanned the line nervously, leaning forward slightly to get a better look, searching for the one human who would be toting a great staff instead of a sword or shield.

They weren’t on the front line - for an anxious second Grillby wondered if they were there at all.

Then the horn sounded down the line, signaling for the monsters to begin their march to meet the humans approaching them. Grillby gulped down the growing tightness of nerves in his soul and stepped forward. The air shuddered with the sound of hundreds of footsteps walking together, intent and stirring magic building in the deadened morning air. As they neared their enemies, Grillby could hear the shouts down the line as the human commanders screamed orders. The commanders among the monsters echoed back.

The march on both sides turned into a charge.

Just before the two walls of bodies crashed, an explosion of brilliant color erupted from the monster side, preemptive attacks bursting through the headlong human charge. Every element, every variation of magic - barring healing green - surged to meet the oncoming mass of warriors and stagger them before the monsters crashed into their ranks. The humans responded in kind, bracing lances at their sides to drive them through the approaching creatures, shields rising into place to try and block some of the wild and devouring magic that burned forward. Grillby winced as he watched Amathea erect her own dangerous wall of spears just before the lines met, humans screaming as they skewered themselves against the glittering points. Driven by the momentum of the men running behind him, they had no chance of stopping, and only a haggardly handful managed to dodge in time.

Grillby sucked in a deep breath, feeling his own magic swirling mad and hungry in his chest. And in his exhale right before the clash he sent into the mass of running bodies four blazing wheels of fire. By the next breath his sword was in his hand, and with a growl he was plunging it forward.

The world exploded to life with roars, cries and shouts mingling with the crackling of magic and the ringing cacophony of metal against metal. Grillby stormed forward aggressive and resolved, every ounce of his soul pouring into the fiery attacks he spewed into the crowd before him. Molten lances jolted into humans just out of his sword reach, wheels of flame lurched into running bodies and clung to their armor, scalding the delicate flesh just underneath the metallic surface. Twice Grillby found himself standing forward enough from the rest of the monsters around him that he could drive cascading waves of fire into the fray of people. He sighed out a smoking breath as the attacks settled, resting for a few seconds in their aftermath and bracing himself for what moves he made next.

In the corners of his eyes he caught glimpses of Amathea and Gaster as they worked beside him, Amathea once again firing a bitter hail storm of spears that dropped from the heavens and leaped up from the ground. She kept one long spear in her hand always, spinning the pole about her body in flourishes and parries that kept even the fiercest swordsmen at bay. Her voice stunned them or shattered their souls.

Gaster’s magic sputtered like dying embers in the fighting, heavy and bruised flickers of purple that sent rippling bone attacks into the humans that approached him. He reserved the bulk of his strength for now, making up in precision what he lacked in overpowering ferocity. Though more than once Grillby watched a human fly back into the weapons of his comrades, their souls breaking in the freezing death-grip of blue magic.

Grillby himself struggled not to become overwhelmed, his gaze focusing for only an instant on the next glance of flesh before he moved on to the one after. A handful of times he felt the jarring impact of a sword or spear glancing across his armor, sometimes actually into his body, when his defense slipped or a determined human managed to slip in a strike at him while he was busy with another. These he shook off with little more than a shudder through his core and a more focused swing of his sword. He wasn’t getting tired, he knew, but he was getting sloppy. There were too many people to keep track of, and there were forever more coming forward. How long could this keep going on? Surely the humans were just as exhausted as the monsters were.

A screech from Amathea’s direction pulled the remainder of Grillby’s focus to the present. He hesitated a moment, expecting some barrage of arrows or shift in the line. But when he glanced at her he saw the captain fighting ferociously against another human soldier, eyes blazing angrily and a fresh cut oozing blood down her arm - sure to add another scar to the collection that adorned her body. Amathea was staggering back away from them in a quick shuffle of footsteps, spears falling in rapid succession on the human as they advanced seemingly invincible towards her. The glowing attacks shattered just before they could hit the human, one particular spear glittering with enraged intent managing to shatter a crack in the invisible shield.

Grillby sucked in a sharp breath.

“Gaster!” he called, gaze snapping to the skeleton who was ducking beneath the angry axe-fall of an armored knight nearby, “Be careful some of them have wards!”

The skeleton dispatched his opponent with a well-timed bone club to the side of their face. He glared in Grillby’s direction, his expression torn between weary and bitter, “What the _hell_ is a _ward?!”_

Grillby circled closer to his friend, sword raised to intercept any other approaching knights. He explained as quickly as he could, “They’re just… weird magic humans make sometimes. Like invisible shields. They write prayers on something of theirs and every once in a while it actually does something.”

“Well that’s absolutely brilliant!” Gaster shouted exasperatedly, throwing his hands in the air - and tossing a human away with his magic in the process, “And _how_ , pray tell, do you even _deal with those?!_ ”

Grillby crackled a smirk and pointed to Amathea. With an angry screech the fish monster crashed into the human she’d been facing, half a dozen spear points digging into the already cracked ward and shattering it to pieces. Within another instant the human’s soul was shattering along with it, and Amathea was lunging towards the nearest knight to her, spears blazing.

“You hit it hard enough,” Grillby laughed bitterly, “Some of them just block. Some of them reflect your magic back at you. Keep the blasters to a minimum until you know what you’re up against.”

Gaster spat an incredulous laugh, “Would’ve been nice to know that yesterday when I was blowing the whole field halfway to hell and back!”

“Well look on the bright side!” Grillby sparked in a chuckle, “You’re not dust yet are you?”

Before Gaster could muster his sarcasm another knight engaged him, and he and Grillby were forced apart as they sunk back into the fight again. The elemental felled one opponent and spun to face the next flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, flinching back when he realized the movement wasn’t another weapon brandished in his face but a blast of _magic_.

Grillby twisted to the side and raised his shield in the same instant, the heavy impact of the magical blast staggering him backwards. His shield suddenly felt heavy, the arm hefting it consumed by a painful searing sense of _cold_. With a start Grillby realized the blast of magic was _ice_ , the creeping spell building up and wrapping around the shield to sink freezing claws into his arm. With an agonized shriek Grillby tore the shield away, and it clattered to the ground with the ravenous ice magic still growing and crystallizing on its surface. Meanwhile the elemental clutched at his wounded arm painfully as his fire desperately flared in an attempt to burn off the ice that had clamped around it - hopefully before it could leach away too much of his HP. Beneath his fingers he could feel core cooling and bruising over. The fire on its surface was extinguished, the molten surface underneath hardening like cooling lava. It _stung_ , but the ice hadn’t held long enough for the wound to be deep. He’d just scratched the surface.

Grillby exhaled a smoking growl, fire rippling in bitter whites and blues as the mage who’d cast the spell stepped into his sight.

This one was _powerful_. More powerful than the last that the elemental had encountered. Grillby could feel the intent behind their stare all the way down in his soul. They wore the darkly dyed robes of some sort of nobility, a family crest of some sort emblazoned pridefully across its chest. Flashes of finely-crafted chainmail glinted underneath the fine garments. In their hands, they held a neatly curving staff, clawed hands clasped at the top of it around a powerful glowing stone. Their eyes glittered darkly down at Grillby, their face unnervingly passive and calm, eyebrows drawn down in a determined glare.

Grillby took a fearless, challenging step in their direction. With his shield gone, he was left feeling exposed and hesitant to close the distance between himself and the mage. Though he had to admit, he would rather be without a shield then have any of his regular armor freezing over. He raised his sword slowly, the tip pointed threateningly in the mage’s direction.

_This was what he was here for._

The mage responded by pointing their staff at Grillby and shouting a spell, the well-rehearsed words rolling off their tongue in sharp, harsh syllables that Grillby couldn’t understand. The elemental dodged out of the way deftly, scowling at the spear of ice that skewered the ground where he’d just been standing. He responded with shots from his fiery lances, throwing forward the deadly projectiles as quickly as he could form them. With a practiced flick of their wrists the mage flashed his staff up to meet the blasts, a shouted incantation forcing them to break on a shimmering magical shield. The human’s soul glowed into existence in the center of their chest, answering the call of the magic they used.

Without hesitation Grillby dove into a series of attacks with his fire. Lances flickered to life, snake-like tendrils of flame snapped up from the ground to grasp at the mage’s staff and armor. The human flicked aside his attacks as if they were nothing, deflecting some and extinguishing others. Their whole energy went into defense, the ferocity of the elemental working to stagger them back one or two tentative steps. But with maddening skill the mage managed to hold their ground against the onslaught, remaining mostly untouched save for some singeing at the edge of his flowing robe sleeves. Every move they made was flawless, every attack timed with the efficiency of someone who had run against an enemy like this before. This was a human who had fought an elemental before and won, who had gained the LV and EXP to do it again if they had to. A shudder went through Grillby at that realization, but still he pressed forward.

In one solid move they deflected another one of Grillby’s short volleys, spinning away from them and in the same moment muttering a spell in counterattack. Grillby braced himself against the flash of magic and formed another attack to -

Suddenly the elemental was swept off his feet, tossed to the side by a powerful brush of blue. A rush of water ran past him, the magical blast missing him my inches. An onslaught of bone attacks forced the mage to dodge, their intricate patterns and spacing distracting the human for a moment from making a new spell. Gaster was at Grillby’s side in an instant, his eye sockets wide in a mix of panic and anger.

“Are you _trying_ to get yourself _killed?!_ ” the skeleton shrieked, and Grillby sputtered in answer.

“How was I supposed to know their next attack was going to be _water?!”_

Gaster signed something in exasperation before shouting, “ _Where the hell is your shield?!”_

“Gone!” was all Grillby managed to get out before the voice of the human cut him off. Gaster blinked, and then dodged behind Grillby as a strike of lightning arced from the human’s staff with a building and roaring _crack!_ The elemental braced himself against the impact, barely managing to stay on his feet. Grillby felt the electricity absorb itself into his core with a faint, buzzing tingle of pins and needles. He crackled with angry annoyance, eyes locking on the human warily.

“Didn’t pull me out of the way of _that one_ did ya?” the elemental barked sarcastically.

Gaster let out the best indignant huff he could in spite of his fraying nerves, “I’ve _seen_ you take on lightning before!”

“But _how did you know it was lightning?!”_

“Does it _matter?”_ Gaster shrieked, dragging both of them out of the way of another blast of ice, “I just know some of the language is all.”

“How do you just casually know _human_ spell language?!”

There was a flash of blinding light from the mage’s staff, and a muttered incantation Grillby couldn’t hear. Then his soul was suddenly heavy, and he fell to his knees with a shimmering green shield in his hand, deflecting a barrage of icy needles. Amathea added her spears to the fray, forcing the mage back several steps.

“What are you two _doing_?” Grillby called with a flare of nervous sparks, “I can handle a mage!”

“Aye sure ya can,” Amathea snarled, “And I’m the monster queen.”

Her magic released him, and Grillby staggered to his feet, Gaster on one side and Amathea on the other. The mage stared back at all of them, the crystal on their staff flashing menacingly and their eyes narrowing slightly.

“You said your shield was gone?” Amathea asked in a low voice, and Grillby nodded, “Alright, I’ll be your shield then. Gaster, tell us his spells when he makes them.”

The skeleton nodded.

“How do you kill these things, Grillby?” Amathea growled, and the elemental shook his head.

“A few clear shots,” he responded, “Mages are just as mortal as the rest of them.”

Amathea nodded, brandishing a spear, “Alright then. And Gaster for heaven’s sakes, don’t get hit! These beasties have enough intent to kill a boss monster with a single spell.”

Gaster gulped thickly, a nervous frown grinding his teeth together. But even still he nodded in return, refusing to back away. The human pointed their staff at the group.

_“Lightning!”_

Grillby lurched forward to meet the attack, Amathea’s shield materializing on his arm. The intent behind the spell shattered the magical shield as soon as the two met; a brilliant lightshow of blue and green sparks spiraling across the elemental’s vision. Grillby drew his sword and kept going, a row of bones and spears flowing forward at the same speed as his heavy footfalls. The human shouted a something _“Dispell!”_ and the attacks crumbled away before a blinding, consuming light that pulsed in ripples from the staff. _“Water!”_ Blue pulled Grillby out of the way of the attack, and he surged forward with a wave of fire. The two magics collided and burst in an explosion of boiling steam that was quickly churned up by a volley of Amathea’s spears. There was a scream of pain amidst the obscurity of the fog, before an angry _“Dispell!”_ was shouted. The human nursed a deep cut in their side and a chunk of their HP dropped into nothingness.

Grillby blinked, his soul giving a startled lurch in his chest. Amathea’s intent was mercilessly strong. For a split second he had to wonder what LV she had to have to strike as hard as she did. Within an instant the human was snarling another spell, and Grillby was dodging out of it’s reach.

Working together, Grillby found himself both unnervingly close and startlingly far away from the mage as they fought. At any turn of words the human was either shouting spells that forced Gaster to pull Grillby to safety, or they were parrying attacks from the elemental or Amathea that allowed Grillby to rush in dangerously close. Twice Grillby swung his sword forward for a hit and the mage was forced to fight back with their staff, the flawless wood notching under the heavy hits from Grillby’s sword.

Three against one, the human was quickly being overpowered. They couldn’t keep track of every monster at once. And when they managed to keep Grillby or Amathea’s attacks back, Gaster would swoop in with a well-timed hit of his own and leach away that much more of the creature’s HP. His attacks were nothing compared to the heavy blows Grillby and Amathea could create, but they bled the same, they stung the same, and with every glancing blow the human’s desperation increased.

Finally to try and even the odds against them, the mage screamed a blast of magic in Gaster’s direction - hoping to cut off the monster warning about their attacks as they made them. An arc of vicious lighting poured from the battered and scorched staff. With a furious and half-panicked flourish Amathea cast her shield on Gaster just as the thunder roiled the air. Grillby took the opening and lunged at the mage, his sword leading.

The mage screeched, the lightning they’d been throwing cut off abruptly as they staggered back away from Grillby. As they moved they tore Grillby’s sword free from where it had lodged itself in their gut, sending flecks of blood sizzling across the elemental’s arm. In their daze and their pain, their legs couldn’t hold them. They collapsed to their knees, grasping at the pouring wound, blood, health and magic gushing through their fingers and onto the ground.

They gazed down at the wound for a startled moment, their face a mask of pain and horror as they realized they’d _lost_. There was a painful hitch in their breath that shook their shoulders, before they slowly tore their gaze away from the wound and up to the elemental that had caused it. In their eyes burned something fierce and unrelenting, mouth twisting in a defiant snarl.

Grillby tightened his hand around the hilt of his sword before reversing his grip to stab down at the human before him.

They snapped their head and their arm up in the same, sudden motion, white-knuckled fist clenched tightly around their staff as they screamed out one last desperate spell. A strike of lightning burst from the sky and slammed into the staff, yanking another soul-rending screech from the human and nearly throwing Grillby off his feet. The frail wood of the staff shattered under the weight of whatever was cast, the crystal it clutched splintering away, the light fading out instantly. There was a deafening clap of thunder that shook the air, dying off into a lasting rumble as the spell ran its course. Then the human slumped into the dirt, their glowing soul shattering to pieces.

Grillby blinked down at what was left of them in bewilderment, startled sparks breaking away from his flame and dispersing into the air, “What the hell…?”

“ _No!_ ”

The elemental spun to face Gaster, his fire lilting into confused colors of blue and green. The skeleton’s gaze was locked on the sky above him, his hands grasping uselessly at his skull in a look of growing dismay.

“No,” he repeated to himself, voice cracking as he shouted, “No no no they _can’t do that!_ ”

Grillby felt his soul drop into his stomach. Hesitantly, he looked up at the sky. What had once been a cloudless sky was quickly darkening, clouds rolling out from where the lightning of the spell had struck. The clouds were monstrous, huge and thick, gathering and amalgamating together faster by the second. They billowed and built into a giant anvil, polluting the blue sky with a haze of yellow and orange, the clouds themselves broiling into deepening purples and greys. A gust of wind clawed at Grillby’s flame, his clothes, the smell of moisture building thick in the air. A dizzying, sickening feeling wrapped itself around Grillby’s soul. The sight of the storm held him spellbound, rooted to the spot with slowly rising terror. Suddenly he found himself thinking about Mistral, the elemental who’d been torn apart by the storm.

“Downpour.”

It took a monumental effort for Grillby to wrench his gaze from the darkening sky. He fixed Gaster in a sick and dismal stare. The skeleton gazed back at him, eye sockets wide with building horror. The staggering downturn in temperature as the pressure in the air dropped hit them like a new gust of wind, sending a shudder through Grillby’s body, down to his very soul. Somewhere overhead, thunder ripped apart the sky.

Gaster’s voice shuttered in a broken and cracking whisper as he repeated, “They said _downpour_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha I get it! He's casting rain! Ahaaaah I'm so clever :'D //gets hit with a brick//
> 
> So imma let you guys peek into my brain real quick:   
> This and the next 2 chapters are the scenes I have been wanting to write for almost as long as this story was an idea. Not quite since the beginning, but really frickin' close. I have been running these scenes over and over and over in my head for the last 2 months, trying to get them aboslutely perfect. I was so excited while writing this thing, that I had to go back and edit it several times because of all the times I only typed half of words or entire sentences in my hurry to get to the next part I wanted to write.
> 
> I've been so excited to post this chapter that I almost posted it when I finished it two days ago. But I held back because I didn't think I would finish the next chapter in time for today's update and still have it at the quality I want it to be to get everything ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. So I've literally been waiting all weekend, butterflies in my stomach, for the opportunity to finally post this scene.
> 
> And I get to do that all over again for the next chapter


	27. Then Came the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During which there's a mad scramble for safety, and we see a slight switch in perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! I have some music for you for this chapter. Two songs this time! Hopefully they sync up during your reading right XD They may heighten the experience but feel free to ignore the song choices if they don't fit for you (and please shout at me if you the the songs don't fit). I kinda wanna leave a symbol where the first song should end, but for now I won't. If there's too much confusion then I'll do a thing! Fingers crossed it all works out eheh...
> 
> The songs this time are:
> 
> [At Wit's End - Pirates of the Carribean 3 soundtrack ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAxQ6n9dgUE) (*)
> 
>  
> 
> [Waterfall - Undertale (acapella) by Teza Belmond](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ftNBFyKvX-M) (#)

**(*)**

Grillby didn't know what he was feeling anymore. Emotions roared at him deafeningly while his thoughts remained dangerously silent. It was as if the half of him that mattered, the half that should be racing to find a way to survive, was numb. There was a panicked tightness building in his chest and throat, crackling his flame in every wan color of white and washed out blue it could possibly be. He was strikingly conscious of his breathing, and how he was _doing it wrong_. It was too quick and irregular, and made speaking that much harder. But really there was only one thought that had managed to rise from the chaos in his mind, a single sentence that rooted him in place.

"So that's it then."

Amathea and Gaster tore their gazes away from the darkening sky, from the building storm overhead. Amathea looked _so angry_. She looked more furious than Grillby had ever seen her - angrier than the day they'd gotten into that stupid fight that sent he and Gaster to the stockade. If she could fight the sky, he was sure she'd be doing it now, hurling spears through jagged lightning bolts and casting the storm away. Meanwhile Gaster could only seem to look heartbroken, his jaw hanging just slightly agape and his hands working to form some kind of sentence, some reassurance, but only managing lost gibberish.

Grillby felt his chest grow tighter.

"That's it," he repeated dumbly, "I'm done."

"No," Gaster started, but the ominous rumble of building thunder drowned him out. Grillby felt a drop of water stab needle-like into the top of his head.

"You're _not done_ ," Amathea snarled, grinding her teeth, "To _hell_ with that _right now_ you're _not done!_ "

She spun on Gaster with enough speed and ferocity to make the skeleton flinch, "Gaster get him out of here."

"Ammy I can't just desert-" Grillby started but Amathea's sharp glare cut him off.

"You're not deserting you're following my orders!" she barked, her body giving an angry shudder and her gills flaring in a bitter shout, "Get to safety. Gaster's escorting you. Gaster! If he can't run so help me you _drag him with blue."_

"We're just leaving you behind?" the skeleton stammered, and Amathea scoffed at him an enraged laugh.

"I'm your _commander_ I can handle myself!" she snarled, "Gaster listen to me-"

Another handful of drops pinged off the elemental's armor. Grillby flinched as a drop traced a sizzling path down his back.

"- if we win this battle we'll be chasing down fleeing humans for days. As soon as the storm passes find a group of monsters and stay there until we reform ranks. If we lose, we'll be pushed south to the Scattered Hills Camp and you regroup with us there," Amathea huffed a breath, glancing back at Grillby before saying as fervently as she could, "Come back safe, and make sure he comes back with you!"

Then she was shoving Gaster in Grillby's direction, pausing only to wrap her arm around the elemental's neck in a tight hug.

"This isn't goodbye and this isn't the end," she growled, her voice low and severe, " _Survive_ , tinderbox."

As best he could past her crushing grip, Grillby nodded. Amathea released him, and with one last shove sent the boys staggering away, "Go!"

Grillby took off running, shoving his way past humans and monsters alike in a mad scramble to get off the field, Gaster bounding close behind him. A lull made its way into the fighting, all creatures startled by the sudden change in the weather, and for a few moments at least their escape was easier than it could have been. Commanders rallied their soldiers together as lightning streaked across the sky. Soldiers disengaged each other in distracted wonder at the threat unfurling above them. A darkness like night fell across the valley, the rain falling faster with every passing second.

The faster it fell the more Grillby hurt. It started on his face and neck, raindrops like acid piercing into his fiery form and evaporating against his heat. It stung the revealed parts of his hands, dampened his tunic and streamed into cracks in his armor. It was a painful, stinging nuisance, as if he'd stepped into a cloud of hornets, not bad enough to stop him from running but quickly increasing. His breath became ragged from exertion and pain, his mind ever more frantic.

When the crowds of warriors restarted their fighting, Grillby was barely halfway across the field to his escape. Suddenly he was elbowing past humans swinging weapons in his direction, eager to kill whatever monster was so stupid as to flee. Grillby met them distractedly, fiery attacks flying out only in an attempt to sweep the soldiers out of his path, to blast a way through to his safety. If he could just get out of the valley. If he could just get into the forest. If he could just find _somewhere to hide…!_

It was raining harder.

Grillby yanked his hood above his head, only for the fabric to start soaking itself instantly. The cool of it pressed down on him, smothering him. Every piece of cloth on his body clung to his core and seared at it bitterly, putting him out like a wet blanket over a cooking fire. Water collected in the gaps of his armor and streamed in rivulets down his shoulders, back, across his arms and legs. Every step was _pain_. His breath came out in smoking gasps, ragged and hurting.

Grillby was so wrapped up in his suffering that he didn't notice the human that lurched for him as he passed. With an angry shove Grillby was knocked off his feet. He suddenly found himself face down in the mud, a ragged scream bubbling up through his throat as the acid-like damp pressed in on him from every side. It was all he could do to lift his arm in time to stop the sword stroke that arched down towards him, catching the glistening blade on his armored forearm. He looked up at the human, mind racing for some sort of attack that would force them to let him go.

The human's soul was suddenly wrapped up in blue, and in the blink of an eye they were wrenched backwards, cartwheeling through their comrades and finally crashing to the ground in a muddy heap. Grillby scrabbled to his hands and knees then, almost extinguishing his hands entirely as they pressed down against the mud to drag himself up. He gulped down a building sob and clutched them to his chest, the bruised cooling of his core making them stiff and calloused like crumbling rock.

Then Gaster was hauling him to his feet, shouting over the sound of the building rain and the battle.

"Keep moving! You can make it we're almost there! Grillby _come on!_ "

One agonizing step after another, Gaster coaxed Grillby back into a run. Through a haze of pain and whimpers Grillby felt the tug of blue, Gaster's grip already vice-like on his soul. Every time he stumbled it pulled him to his feet. It forced him to dodge humans he was too preoccupied to notice anymore. It hauled him forward, staggered him back, pushed him to and fro. And all the while Gaster was a flurry of footwork, dancing around falling blades and diving around magic attacks, and even daring to fire forward some of his own. Every few steps he lifted bone attacks beneath his feet, adding momentum to his run and sending him leaping over the heads of some of the soldiers in his way. A well timed shot from his blaster gave them the gap they needed to break ranks entirely.

Before they made the trees they were in a full-on downpour, the rain coming so thick and fast the world was a haze of grey for several feet before them. And Grillby was _screaming_. His entire world had turned into a hail of stabbing, searing cold. His body became stiff with the cooling of his core. Each forced step cracked the skin of the cooling element only for more of the molten mess to flow like blood down his arms and cool again. He was wrapped in the most complete agony he had ever felt in his life. He was dying. He was _dying_.

What miracle was it that kept him alive even now? Gaster's hand on his back was the only thing leading him in any direction. The skeleton's grip on his soul a lifeline that was quickly fading. How long until his soul just shattered apart and Gaster had nothing to lead anymore? How long until everything just _stopped_?

Breaking into the tree line did nothing, the rain only slowing a little as the leaves tried and failed in stopping the droplets from passing through. Grillby found himself stumbling over rocks and roots, climbing a hill he didn't have the strength left in him to climb. His run became a staggering shamble that no amount of pleading or prodding from Gaster could quicken.

Finally Grillby collapsed, sobbing and screaming into the mud. He couldn't get his arms beneath him to pull himself back up. His body wasn't listening anymore, his legs so cold to the point of tingling with a growing, burning sense of numb. His reflex to convulse or writhe in pain was smothered out by his overwhelming sense _weakness_. In a painful effort, Grillby curled up with his arms crossed over his head and his knees bending up towards his chest. He lay there and screamed.

_"Make it stop!"_

Gaster was at his side in an instant, pulling at him body and soul in a desperate attempt to get Grillby to stand, "Grillby! Grillby come on I can't do this on my own here!"

But it was useless. Grillby _couldn't move_. He couldn't even rightly hear Gaster speaking anymore. Everything was a haze of the sound of falling raindrops, the sound of his own core sizzling and stifling, the sound of his own whimpers and cries as they tore jaggedly at the inside of his throat. His senses were overwhelmed with a feeling like he was being stabbed apart piece by piece. And the longer he lay there the deeper the feeling of painful numbing cold seeped into his body. His hands were completely numb, the barest of heat still seeping somewhere in the centers of his wrists and up his arms. Would he die like this? Waiting for his very soul to shatter against the force of his entire body succumbing to this stinging and consuming feeling of cold?

"Grillby! _Grillby!_ " Gaster shouted over the noise of his friend's screaming, "You can't stop here! You have to _move_. You have to…!"

He had to _what?_

Hopelessness was welling up inside the skeleton's soul, threatening to break in a downpour of its own. He didn't know what to do. _He didn't know what to do!_ Literally _nowhere_ was safe for the smoldering elemental. There was no tree with a dense enough canopy to block out the rain, no caves or overhangs for shelter. There was _nothing_. Nothing but mud and rain and useless, _useless_ everything else. What was he supposed to do?! Build a shelter?! What could he even do that would save the elemental before he sputtered out completely - if it wasn't already too late?

Gaster leaped to his feet, pacing around his friend and looking wildly about for anything, _anything_ that would work. His eyes rested on a tiny burrow at the base of a tree, the opening barely large enough for some fox or hare. With a desperate shout, Gaster yanked out one of his blasters and fired at it, blasting away a chunk of the earth and deepening the hole ever so slightly. He cast one last panicked glance down at Grillby, whose unsettling screams were already fading to hollow and weakening cries.

He summoned another blaster and fired again.

Again and again and _again_ as fast as he could summon them, as many at a time as he could managed without shattering his own soul, Gaster fired, carving out a cave piece by burning piece. By the time he was finished, the base of the tree was a splintered and smoldering mess of wood, mud and clay. Whatever creature's burrow had been there was obliterated, leaving a gaping hole yawning open at the world with smoke still rising faintly from its insides. Grillby's cries had stopped. Hesitantly Gaster turned back to his friend again. The skeleton heaved a sigh of relief when he saw a form there instead of a pile of dust.

Gaster wrapped his arms around Grillby's chest, pinged his soul blue, and _heaved_. He dragged Grillby over to the little makeshift shelter, dropping him inside before sliding in after himself. With the flick of his wrist he sealed up their entrance with a hedge of interlocking bones pieced so thickly together, only the occasional drop made it through to splash on Gaster's shoulder.

The inside of his shelter was cramped and dark, illuminated by a few of Gaster's glowing blue attacks and, by some miracle, what little light could still seep its way off of Grillby's body. It was like laying in a tomb, the space just barely big enough for the two of them to lay side-by side. And the space was quickly filling with thick, smothering smoke.

Gaster lurched over to his friend, tearing off any piece of armor or clothing he could get his skeletal fingers on. He fumbled with clasps and cursed under his breath, his hands shaking from fatigue and panic. Grillby was smothering to death beneath Gaster's fingers and he'd be _damned_ if the elemental died just because the skeleton couldn't get his hands to hold steady! The smoke from the dying flame seared at the sense of smell inside Gaster's skull, stabbed at his eyes and made it harder to see what he was doing. In spite of it all, Gaster somehow managed to pull the armor off Grillby's shoulders, and the tunic after it.

This seemed to help already. As soon as it was off, Grillby sucked in a shuddering breath, as if the dampened cloth had been stopping his breathing. He coughed out the breath painfully, sparks shuddering weakly out from his throat. Gaster worked on pulling off the elemental's waterlogged boots next, shoving the remaining wet clothes as close to his hedge of bones as possible and as far away from the elemental as he could manage. Just leaning over Grillby to grab the last of his effects, Gaster could hear the elemental hiss in pain whenever his own sopping clothing dripped onto the elemental's form. As an afterthought, Gaster unequipped his own soaked clothing, leaving him in nothing but his chainmail and his boots. Hopefully that would make the elemental a little more comfortable at least.

And if Grillby passed - Gaster's soul gave a sickening lurch - maybe it wouldn't be as painful. With a grim frown, Gaster pulled Grillby's soul out into the open, and then his own with it.

"... everything hurts…"

Gaster paused, his soul giving a painful hitch at the sound of Grillby's voice. He was so _weak_. He rasped at barely a whisper, the sound raw from the screaming he'd done while trapped in the downpour. Once again, sparks fluttered out of his throat before fizzling out. The inside of the elemental's mouth - finally visible now that the flame that normally encompassed him was gone - and the inside of his throat were, really, the brightest things Gaster could see. The rest of Grillby's body was covered in a cracking patchwork of what could have been volcanic stone, seeping dying light from in between the cracks and casting the inside of their shelter in weak tones of orange and red. The molten core - right? That's what Grillby called it? His core? - was still shifting slowly underneath it, though dulled into much colder colors than it should be. Even when Grillby had doused his hand on their cooking fire, Gaster remembered seeing shifting colors of white and yellow.

"I know, Grillby, I'm fixing it," Gaster said, his voice quivering slightly, "It's going to be okay."

"... am I dying…?"

"I mean, if you want to get technical here, we're all born dying," the skeleton mumbled, unable to form any meaningful sarcasm in his worry. Looking into Grillby's soul was almost as devastating as seeing the rest of the monster's form. His HP was next to nothing, dwindled down to some sliver of a number in the single digits. Gaster choked on a gasp.

_If I had been just a few seconds later…!_

Grillby heaved a deep sigh, his breath shuddering and his chest flinching painfully as he did so. His eyes opened slowly, shifting colors of red and orange barely lighting what should have been a bright white light. He let out some wincing noise of pain.

"... Gaster…?"

"I'm working on it Grillby, just hang in there."

Gaster got to work unwinding a cord from his soul, wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of his magic unraveling from his soul. He lifted the cord to Grillby's soul and, frowning dismayingly, started to work on the largest crack he could find. The elemental's very essence was as spider-webbed with cracks as the rest of his body… Gaster wondered if he had enough magic in him to even fix them all. Grillby's soul was _so much larger_ than Gaster's was, and Gaster pouring his magic into it felt very much like he was trying to fill an ocean with a tea spoon. It needed more magic to stabilize than any other monster he'd worked with, more magic than Gaster even thought he had left. But he worked nevertheless, hoping against hope there was enough in him to at least bring the elemental back from the brink of falling.

"... where are we…?"

"In a hole in the ground," Gaster answered, an attempt at a smirk twitching at the edge of his teeth, "There weren't any inns in the area, sorry."

"... what a shame."

Gaster winced as the tug on his soul tilted away from uncomfortable and closer to painful, "I mean, it's not too different from just sleeping on the ground. You do that all the time anyway right?"

"Yeah."

"And it's got a roof that doesn't leak. Even some castles can't say that," Gaster hummed.

**(#)**

He flinched a second later as he fixed another crack in Grillby's soul, only for one to rip itself open in his own.

" _Shit,"_ Gaster hissed under his breath, stopping in his work to examine the damage. It was a small crack, hair thin and shimmering against the faint purple glow of the magic in his soul. But for as unassuming as it looked, it packed a punch. His HP dropped by nearly twenty points. The exhaustion from the day before, and the hits that Gaster had taken today, already had his health down a third from what it should be.

Was he really so low on magic? Well, he had used an awful lot of blue just getting here… and then there was the blasts that had made their shelter…

Gritting his teeth, Gaster hesitantly pulled at the magic of his soul. The crack burst out across the surface of his soul instantly, shattering a zigzagging scar across its surface. The suddenness of it and the sting through his body that followed made his whole body jerk, and nearly took his breath away as well. His HP dropped another fifteen points. Gaster let out a breathless curse.

Grillby shifted weakly beside him, "... Gaster, stop."

"It just... surprised me is all," the skeleton stammered, glaring warily down at the threatening little crack, "It's actually not… _that_ bad."

There was a soft chuckle beside him, rough and painful, "You're a bad liar."

"Excuse you, I'm a _great_ liar," Gaster laughed with as much enthusiasm as he could muster - which unfortunately, wasn't much, "If I don't sound convincing then I _must_ be telling the truth."

The skeleton frowned at the two floating souls, his just barely starting to crack and Grillby's still riddled with shattering scars. _He couldn't fix it_. The thought hit him like a punch in the chest, and Gaster grimaced. He didn't have enough magic in him to sew back together everything that was wrong. He could use up his entire soul trying and he would still probably miss something. Gaster huffed out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and when he did he felt tears springing to life in his eye sockets. Along with the most bitter sense of hopelessness he'd ever felt in his entire life. Grillby was dying and Gaster, the monster who was supposed to stop that from happening, was useless in the face of it.

Scowling and bracing himself, Gaster resigned himself to one last attempt. He might not be able to fix _everything_ , but he could at least focus on the worst of it.

"Well," he breathed, "This is going to be _unpleasant_."

With a preemptive wince, Gaster yanked the cord running from his soul and started resuming his work. He could feel the crack on his own soul get larger, a shivering pain building up in his chest in the wake of it, but he refused to give it a glance. Instead he grit his teeth and focused on weaving the deepest cracks in Grillby's soul shut, only glancing back at his own soul to catch the dropping numbers of his HP. Ten points gone. Twenty points. Another fifteen leeched itself away. Then a staggering thirty. Gaster's hands were shaking again.

The skeleton worked stubbornly, the ache in his chest crescendoing until he was at a third of his HP. Then with a strangled sort of gasp he dropped the cords away, letting his soul sink back where it belonged. Gaster didn't realize how rigid he had gone until he was practically melting into the ground beneath him with relief. He lay there quietly for a moment, blinking at the ceiling and waiting for the unsettled feeling in his soul to ease.

Finally, Gaster let out a tired laugh, "See? Told you it wasn't that bad."

There was a pause.

"Firefly?"

Gaster shifted as best he could in the confined space to look down at his friend. Grillby was unconscious, his breathing shallow and slow, his eyes closed. Gaster's magic had managed to do _something_ though. The glow in the cracks of the elemental's body was just the smallest bit brighter, glowing closer into oranges then they were to reds. Some parts of his form were becoming molten again, especially around his chest where the elemental's soul had sunk back into place, the strange rock-like plating that his cooling core had turned into giving way again to the molten surface it was supposed to be. A flutter of hope wriggled around in Gaster's ribcage. Maybe after some rest Grillby would be alright. Rest worked wonders on monsters, after all. It healed HP and replenished bits of magic almost as well as food or medicine.

But the doctor in his mind brought Gaster's thoughts back to the grimmer, realistic possibilities before him. Grillby's soul was still cracked all to hell. It was a little better yes, but he certainly wasn't stable. He needed a _real_ doctor, one who could use green, and a lot of it. As he was now, Grillby could easily slip into shock from the sudden horrendous drop his HP had gone through - or even slip into a killing sleep. One of the kind that kept him wasting away for days until he finally just turned into dust.

Gaster shuddered.

Grillby needed help, desperately. The thought wandered through Gaster's mind that he could possibly try and run for help. He was fast and quiet. Gaster was _sure_ he could slip past whatever fighting was still happening and find someone who could help. The problem with that would be dragging them back to where Grillby was before anything happened to the elemental. And then there was the problem of Gaster's bone attacks, which were right now the only thing keeping the rain from pouring into their makeshift shelter, and even then just barely. Dropping them for even an instant could put Grillby in danger. And even if Gaster could crawl out without damaging the elemental even more, he knew the attacks themselves would fizzle out as soon as he was far enough away. Gaster scowled. If only he were as strong as Amathea, he could hold them there until he got back.

That wriggling, aching feeling of hopelessness writhed its way back into Gaster's ribcage. The skeleton blinked forlornly at the ceiling above him for a moment, tracing the creeping structures of the burned tree and plant roots still left behind there. What a mess over _one human_. Why couldn't they just accept their fate and die without destroying _everything_? Why hadn't they stopped them before they could fire off that last spell? They should have done something, _anything_. If he'd only known -

Gaster gave a quiet, bitter laugh. That was the catch though, wasn't it? They _hadn't_ known. They couldn't have. Who could have ever suspected that human would throw what was left of their pathetic, shattering soul into such a powerful spell? If they were a monster, they would have been dead already. But they weren't a monster. They were a human.

Gaster sighed, stopping his aimless tracing of the ceiling to glance back over at his friend. Grillby hadn't moved an inch. As weak as he was, he probably wouldn't.

"I'm exhausted," Gaster mumbled to his friend, "If I go to sleep, firefly, you promise you'll still be here when I wake up?"

Of course there was no answer. There was hardly any sound he could hear besides the angry downpour that hadn't so much as lulled since it had started. Just below it, weak and rasping, Gaster could make out the sound of Grillby's breathing.

With a sigh, Gaster shifted himself around in the claustrophobic space. He managed to make it onto his side, scooting as far away from the elemental as he could so any moisture left on the skeleton couldn't hurt him as he slept. He pillowed his bony arms underneath his skull and waited, watching the soft shifting of melting colors on Grillby's chest. Gaster hoped against hope that as soon as he closed his eyes the elemental wouldn't collapse into dust.

"Please, _please_ be here when I wake up, firefly…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /loud screaming/
> 
> For two months I have been dying to write these scenes
> 
> I really should write a chapter/synopsis sometime on how I think Grillby's body works. If I had it all down in one place somewhere it might make it easier to describe what I'm seeing in my head when the time comes for me to, in instances like this where things happen to it.
> 
> I actually had a lot of trouble with the music on this one ahaha. When I imagined the first half of this scene, before it was written down, I was obsessively playing Burgentrucking/Asgore's Theme (the acapella version by Teza Belmond) in the background as I did so. But when I sat down to write it, I realized that not only did the music not sync up, but the ending also sounded very optimistic. And this is a very pessimistic scene ahaha.
> 
> So for the past few days I've been scouring my various music playlists for something that would fit. I found a couple Two Steps from Hell songs that might have worked if they were longer (darn those epic 2-3 minute long songs!). Finally I found the one you're listening to now, which I'm actually worried might be too long. But then again, I also read very fast. I've been known to go through 500 page novels in a single evening.
> 
> That being said, upon forcing myself to read slower, I did get several of the musical cues to sync up with the imagery in the text. So... I'll cross my fingers and pray I guess ahaha.
> 
> Anywho, I'm kinda struggling with the next scene, but even still it's halfway done now. Assuming I can get it and the chapter following written in decent time, I might be able to get some early updating out for you guys ;) Wouldn't that be a nice gift for the Fourth of July?


	28. This war is far too death-y for my tastes I hope you agree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the only creatures in the world with good luck are the ones with determination.

This was familiar. He remembered it well. So much so he could almost be lucid. But no matter how hard he tried, it was like his consciousness was pinned to the floor. But he had no control. He was just going through the motions.

 _I'm dreaming. I know I'm dreaming_.

Gaster was thrown over one of his patient's cots. He hadn't expected the human to catch his attack like that, to toss him away like he was nothing. He landed with a startled shout and a rattle of bones, and instantly he was scrabbling to his feet. Attacks forming while his mouth shouted a jumble of words that didn't make sense anymore. He dodged around a handful of sword swings, tripped over a badly placed surgery cart. Knives, bandages and other utensils scattered. Gaster's legs were tangled up in his own robes and scraps of broken wood. He was too intent on scrambling free that he didn't see the human lunge forward. He glanced up in time for his left eye to shatter and for a splitting pain to crack open his skull.

Gaster threw the creature backwards with blue, all the while screaming about what had just happened. The human lunged again -

 _This is different_.

Amathea's green wasn't there to intercept them. They kept coming. Gaster wasn't ready for that. That wasn't supposed to happen.

But the sword didn't sink itself into Gaster. The skeleton flinched and blinked and when he opened his eyes again he could see the tip of the human's sword ripping its way through iron and fire.

_He's not supposed to be here._

Grillby collapsed backwards, writhing, his fire being rapidly put out. His core cooling into hard black stone. He was screaming.

_This is wrong. He can't be hurt by swords, and that human had no water or ice._

Gaster was crawling to him, leaking a magic trail from his wounded eye. His armed pulled the dying elemental closer.

"I can fix this! Just hold on I can fix this!"

The dark black of Grillby's cooling core immediately faded to gray. Suddenly the only thing Gaster was holding was dust.

"No wait…! This isn't right! I could've helped him! I could've - !"

A foot planted itself in the center of Gaster's back, and the skeleton was slammed face first into the dust on the ground. It stung at his open wound, coated the inside of his mouth, burned his nose and eyes.

"You can't fix anything."

_This is wrong. The human never spoke before._

The sword was shoved through him with an ear-splitting _crack!_

Gaster jolted awake with a shuddering gasp. In the half-panic of wakefulness he realized he couldn't see _anything_. The skeleton bolted upright - !

Gaster cracked his forehead against the ceiling of their little shelter, and with a screech of pain he flopped back over, clutching his hands to his face while incoherent curses streamed past his teeth. Ow ow ow ow _ow!_ Did he lose HP from that?! It _felt_ like it! Heavens above, his _whole_ _skull_ hurt from that! Gaster rubbed his aching skull, willing the pain to dull. Tears smarted at his eye sockets and he let out a pathetic whine. What a _marvelous_ way to wake up.

Well, at least he was warm…

Wait. He was _warm._

Gaster managed to tear one of his eye sockets open and roll onto his side - still rubbing his throbbing skull in the hopes of soothing it. The lights of his eyes fell on Grillby. The elemental was still there. Still _alive_. He was very much _not_ a pile of dust. Gaster heaved a sigh of relief, his breath hitching in the smallest of laughs. He let out the smallest prayer of thanks to whatever was listening.

Grillby was still unconscious, he didn't seem to have moved even an inch in his sleep. He was radiating warmth though, the slow creep of it seeping into Gaster's bones. The most relieving thing though was that, for the most part, his body was molten again. The strange, blackened cooling of his core had melted away, the heat seeping from the elemental's body slowly reclaiming it. Patches of the damage still remained, the cracked plate-like wounds clinging mostly to Grillby's hands and traveling shortly up his arms before disintegrating into reds and oranges. The elemental's body was slowly healing itself piece by burning piece.

A resounding _crack!_ \- the sound almost exactly like the sickening noise from Gaster's dream - tore the skeleton away from his friend and instead to the wall of bones he'd erected over their shelter. Cracks were splintering through them, something was pounding them apart from the outside. Gaster's soul turned nervously in his chest as they were slammed into again, this time followed by the loud, sharp syllables of a human's speech. In his dazed state, it took Gaster a few seconds to comprehend what they were saying.

"There's more here!"

"Well what are you waiting for?! Drag them out!"

"I'm _trying_!"

Another hit crashed into Gaster's wall of attacks, this time shattering a few of the bones into magical waste and dust. Past them, Gaster caught a glimpse of a pair of heavy boots. Gaster gulped down a breath he wasn't really capable of breathing. A sinking, bitter feeling wrapped itself around his soul and the skeleton scowled. The monsters had lost. They must have, if humans were taking their time to clear them out. But… that wasn't right, was it? When Grillby had smashed apart the horsemen weeks ago, the monsters hadn't chased down every last one of the fleeing men. They hadn't even stuck around long enough to worry about the wounded left on the field. Why would the humans be going after the monsters if they'd fled?

Gaster's soul gave a startled hitch - wait, they'd left Ammy behind. _They'd left Ammy on the front lines and the monsters had lost._ Oh no. No no no. This couldn't be happening. Grillby was unconscious, very nearly fallen down. Amathea might be dust on the bottom of some human's heels for all anyone knew.

Gaster was _alone_.

With one last hit the remaining bone attacks were shattered. Gaster cast one last frantic look at his unconscious friend, mind reeling for what he should do, before strong hands came down on him. They grabbed scrabbling fistfuls of his armor, the skeleton unable to flee anywhere in the confined space. With an angry grunt the human that had grabbed Gaster dragged him backwards, the skeleton writhing around in their grasp uselessly.

"No no no _no wait!_ " Gaster shouted, hands scrabbling up to the fists clenched on his armor, trying to pry them free. He was tossed aside, landing roughly at the muddied feet of another human. There was another at the shelter still, leaning down to look inside for any other monsters, grungy blonde hair falling in their face as they leaned forward. They reached a hand in and - Gaster flicked his wrist, throwing up a hedge of glittering blue attacks and stinging the human's hand away. The human leaped back as if they'd been bitten by a snake, wringing their hand out and glaring in Gaster's direction. _Ha!_ Let them stomp through _that_.

The blonde scowled, "Well don't just _stand there_ and let it keep throwing magic around! _Kill it!_ "

Immediately Gaster found himself face-to-face with the nearest human's sword, the point glittering dangerously close to his broken eye. Gaster threw his hands up placatingly, a nervous grin splitting his features.

A third human stepped into Gaster's view, a hand at their sword as they paced threateningly forward, "That was a gutsy move there, friend!"

Gaster's soul gave a lurch as they stomped closer, slowly drawing their sword from it's scabbard at their hip. They had incredibly blue eyes for a human, the skeleton noticed. He was used to them looking much more grey or brown. Somehow though, Gaster managed a broken up, nerve-choked laugh.

"That's a good one, really," he squeaked nervously, "Gutsy? Skeleton? Please tell me that joke was on purpose."

All three of the humans stopped in their tracks. Gaster moved his hands slowly, signing shakily as he talked.

"You know," he rambled, "Gutsy like brave…? And then… gutsy like… you know… the stuff skeletons can't have… because… skeletons don't have guts. It's a play on words...? Like... a pun...?"

The human nearest to Gaster took a nervous step back, though that sword still pointed threateningly in his direction. The skeleton gulped.

"Well I mean, if I have to explain it I guess it's not that funny," he commented as an afterthought, wheezing out a terrified laugh.

The blonde was very close to blue-eyes now, and he leaned over to whisper with a shell-shocked kind of rasp, "These demons aren't supposed to speak our language."

Blue-eyes shook his head, "He's speaking in _hands_."

The smile immediately dropped off of Gaster's face, replaced with a dizzying and gripping feeling of fear. He'd been talking with his hands. _He'd been talking with his hands!_ Just how stupid _was_ he? Blue-eyes - who was looking more and more like the leader of the small group - glanced back at the tree that Gaster's shelter was nestled beneath. Something in they way they looked said they'd pulled a few puzzle pieces in their mind together.

"You're hiding the elemental in there, aren't you?" they said, a growl in their voice.

Gaster blinked, his chest slowly tightening with a buzzing and mounting panic. He glanced up at the human towering over him now, their sword tip having relaxed downward just a bit, but still poised threateningly enough to tear through Gaster's torso at the slightest moment's notice. His gaze flicked back up to the blonde who was creeping back over to the hedge of stinging blue bones Gaster had summoned.

"So what if it's down there? We can't kill it."

Blue-eyes was looking back at Gaster again, face scrunching up in a suspicious glare, "I'm sure we can find a puddle big enough to drown it in."

The skeleton felt his soul lurch around in his chest, and he managed a very shaky laugh, "Oh come now, it's a beautiful day outside! Birds are singing. Flowers are blooming. It'd be a shame to soil such a nice morning with… _violence_."

The panic building in Gaster's soul was very quickly turning into terror. This couldn't be happening. This _couldn't_ be happening. What could he do? Could he fight them? What even was his HP at? And that blue-eyed human was _terrifying_ \- was that childish to think? It was wasn't it? But they _knew_ something that the others didn't. They'd noticed Gaster's hand movements and recognized them, and they knew Gaster was with an elemental. How could they know that? _Why_ did they know that?

The blonde was kneeling down beside Gaster's hedge of bones, looking very much like they were going to try reaching in despite the blue magic that would undoubtedly burn them each time they moved. Through Gaster's haze of fear, confusion and panic one clear thought struck him - he'd rather be beaten to dust before he let anyone drag Grillby through the mud again. No creature alive was ever meant to be in that much pain, let alone _twice._

And despite being outnumbered, Gaster did have one thing going for him - even if blue-eyes knew something the others didn't, they still obviously had no idea what Gaster was capable of. Because of course, Gaster was just a frail, helpless little skeleton. And everyone knew skeletons were _clever_ , but also terribly easy to kill. They were only really a threat when they were in large numbers, or when one particularly strong skeleton managed to gain enough LV to become a boss monster.

Gaster was no boss monster, that was for certain. But he also wasn't _normal._

With the flick of his wrist Gaster snatched up the soul of the human guarding him and tossed them forward, intending to slam them into blue-eyes. Of course blue dodged out of the way, the staggering swordsman landing instead in a heap in the mud. Gaster scrabbled to his feet, wincing self-consciously as he signed out his next attack. Bones exploded out of the ground, ripping a jagged path towards the three humans. Blue-eyes and the blonde both scrambled out of the way. The stunned swordsman took the brunt of the attack as they staggered to their feet, the bones crashing into their armor and leaching away over a third of their HP in a single go. One of the jagged points ripped a hole in their armor and sent blood spattering across the ground.

Gaster slipped his hands in his pockets, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet as he prepared to dodge. All three humans brandished their weapons in his direction bitterly, Gaster shot them a pensive grin.

_Please, please don't let me get dusted before I can get Grillby out of here…!_

"Sorry to disappoint you fine human beings," he spat with a nervous chuckle, "But if you _really_ want that elemental, you're gonna have to dust me first."

Blue-eyes came charging forward. As nonchalantly as Gaster could manage, he dodged.

"But that should be _so easy_ for you brave, strong humans right?" the skeleton asked to nothing in particular as he danced around the blonde, who had come running up while Gaster's back was turned.

"After all, I'm just a weak little skeleton," Gaster opened an expecting hand, a bone attack summoning into his grasp. It was unnaturally pointed at the end, a bone sword glittering dully with his purple magic. He smashed it forward, parrying an arcing stroke from the swordsman. His last spin of a dodge set Gaster between the tree and the three humans. All three looked that much more aggravated knowing all of their first attacks had missed. Gaster shrugged his shoulders dramatically.

"Hm, I don't seem to be dust yet. Weird."

The blonde spat in Gaster's direction. The skeleton feigned a disgusted look, "Well aren't you charming."

"Would you _shut up?!_ " the swordsman shouted, brandishing his weapon at Gaster fearlessly. In spite of himself, in spite of the situation, Gaster couldn't help but crack the widest grin. The temptation to shout 'make me!' back almost got the better of him. Instead he just offered another helpless sort of shrug. As he did, row upon row of bones shot towards the three humans that stood against him. The intricate, interlocking attacks forced the humans into a fierce pattern of dodging, all of them being stung once or twice by the needling hits. Gaster scowled.

If he were Amathea or Grillby, these humans would already be dead. Their intent was strong enough to kill humans in just a handful of hits. And here was Gaster, stuck whittling down their health handfuls of HP at a time. But the cuts the sharp edges of the bones made bled, and the humans got weaker and slower. It was blue-eyes that finally managed to close the distance that Gaster had put between him, that sword of theirs swinging in a flurry of strategic strokes at Gaster's head and neck, and his moving hands. Gaster dodged each sword stroke, the summoned weapon in his hand occasionally leaping up to counter with his own.

For a few seconds he was extremely grateful Grillby had given him swordfighting lessons.

Then the other two humans were closing in on him, and it was all Gaster could do to keep out of the reach of their blades. He tried to dodge around them so that they got in each other's' way, his constant movement a circle around their bodies that was a nuisance to keep up with.

It was the blonde that landed the first hit - much to Gaster's surprise. The skeleton had just side-stepped his way away from the swordsman's blade, just barely catching the movement out of the corner of his eye as the blonde brought his sword across in an angry two-handed stroke. It was too fast for Gaster to bring his bone sword around to intercept it. He managed to throw his arm up to block the stroke from its downward plunge towards his face, a growl slithering past his teeth when the blade connected with his forearm. Gaster's chainmail kept the sword from cleaving it off - thank heavens - but he felt the unmistakeable, shivering _crack_ as the force of the hit sent fractures through the fragile bone. The skeleton choked on a gasp as nearly fifty points of his HP were snapped away.

In the next breath Gaster clutched their soul in blue and threw them into blue-eyes, who had been halfway through a deadly swing of their own. They tumbled into one another, blue-eyes catching the sharp edge of his comrade's sword as they fell. Gaster backed away from them, eyes darting warily between the swordsman and the blonde as they stumbled back to their feet. Blue-eyes was slower in rising, clutching at a new slash that had cleaved it's way across his side. Really, they shouldn't have been standing at all. But there was a burning glint in their eye that wouldn't surrender. Gaster took another step back in the face of it, his good hand clutching at his wounded arm. All along the fracture throbbed in pain, and each time he moved burning needles seemed to spring to life along the wound's length.

The humans sprung towards him again. Gaster huffed a sigh through his teeth, shifting his weight on his feet to dodge. He grabbed the wounded blue-eyes' soul in a vice of a grip, and with every ounce of his strength flung the human into the nearest tree. They smashed into the bark-face first, some angry crunch of breaking bone answering the hit before they crumpled to the ground, moaning and barely conscious. Gaster ducked out of the way of swordsman's falling sword.

Fighting two against one was maddening - only barely less so than fighting against all three. It was clear that blonde and swordsman were used to fighting together. Who knows, maybe they had even faced high LV monsters like Amathea before? But whatever the case, Gaster was hard-pressed in ducking past their interchanging sword strokes. Every once in awhile he managed to get enough distance between them to throw forward his bone attacks, leeching away bits and pieces of their HP. Once the blonde managed to thrust a vicious stab at Gaster's ribs. His chainmail had crumpled around the blow, snatching away another huge chunk of HP but thankfully keeping the bone from being broken - though there was a bruising ache there every time Gaster jostled it the wrong way.

The blonde moved in for another one of their heavy hits, the swordsman managing to maneuver them into position past Gaster's interlocking bone attacks and manic dodging. Before they could hit, Gaster grabbed their soul in the fiercest blue he could and tossed them backwards. They slid through the mud, a bitter screech on their lips. The swordsman lunged forward for Gaster, blade leading, and the skeleton just barely managed to ping the human's soul blue in time to send them crumpling to the ground at Gaster's feet. There was a pause where their eyes widened and they scrambled to get their arms underneath them. But Gaster's blue kept crushing them down, only relenting when he sent bone attacks shooting out of the ground and into their stomach and chest.

Gaster dropped the attacks and snapped his gaze up, frowning at the look of anger and that flushed the blonde's face red. They charged forward, sword raised and a dozen curses streaming past their clenched teeth.

Before the human could reach him Gaster pinged their soul blue. He shoved the human back into a nearby tree, knocking the air from their lungs. Then he threw them to one side, then another, until their sword was scattered from their hands and they lay crumbled on the ground still. Gaster dropped them then, his whole body shaking from exhaustion. As soon as he did, the human stirred. The skeleton let out a loud groan in dismay.

He was getting way too tired and too low on magic to deal with this.

But it was almost over. He reformed that sword-like bone attack in his hand, storming forward as the human managed to stumble to their feet. They blinked up at him as he raised the attack back for a powerful two-handed stroke, in their daze just barely managing to bring their hands up to shield their face.

When Gaster's attack came down it crumpled against an invisible shield, shattering instantly in a flurry of sparks and a backfire of magic. The force of the explosive fracturing of his weapon sent Gaster stumbling back, a cry of pain yanking out of his nonexistent throat as his wounded arm cracked a bit deeper from the force of the backlash. Gaster clutched at it fiercely, another pitiful whine yanking past his teeth as the added pressure from his hand twisted a new spiral of pain up his forearm.

After a few seconds Gaster managed to yank his gaze away from his broken arm and up to the human, who looked just as surprised and lost as the skeleton did. Gaster's face twisted into an angry sort of snarl when something before the human caught in the light, some strange warping in the air.

It was a _ward_. Had that always been there? Or did it just choose to activate itself now, when the blonde was in danger of being killed? Either way Gaster didn't care. A bitter, seething sort of anger was bubbling up in his soul at the amount of pain this one human had caused. Why was it always right when they were about to lose that humans always found _some way_ of making _everything worse_?! And what was Gaster supposed to do now? Grillby had said something about breaking wards hadn't he? Gaster just had to hit it hard enough, right?

It was obvious already bone attacks weren't a heavy enough attack to get past the inconvenient little shield. Gaster might have just enough magic left to deal with it - he hoped so at least. He needed to do _something_ anyway. Already the human was casting their gaze around, looking for the sword they'd dropped earlier.

Gaster took a deep breath and dug into every last reserve of magic he could possibly possess, feeling the angry yanking on his soul as he summoned forth the gaping jaws of his blaster. The human paled at the sight of it, stumbling a few wary steps back as the loud whine of building magic filled the air. Gaster charged the snarling canon until he couldn't hold the crackling magic any longer, and with a rush of a sigh he released the blaze in a roaring beam of white fire. The human screamed, armed coming up fearfully to shield them once again. From where he stood, Gaster could see a crack shatter across the ward.

But… something was wrong. The white of the beam wasn't fading out.

A blinding light...

_...devoured..._

_._

_...Gaster's..._

_.._

_...vision..._

…

… _Everything hurt._

When Gaster came to, that was the first thing he noticed. The second thing he noticed was that everything was _burning_. His broken arm was a mess of throbbing hot pain and pins and needles. There was an uncomfortable heat in his bones, the bitter smell of scorched earth bit at the inside of his skull. As his eyesight came into focus, he could make out the base of the tree that had served as he and Grillby's shelter during the night. The bones that had covered its entrance were gone. Whether they were burned away or just disintegrated from Gaster's lack of magic, the skeleton couldn't tell. The tree itself was ablaze with a wraithlike white fire, the unnatural power of Gaster's blaster forcing the wet bark to burn.

Gaster wheezed out a painful laugh. The ward had shot his attack back at him.

Grillby had said something about that too, hadn't he?

Gaster should've seen that coming.

 _Augh_ everything hurt _so badly_.

Gaster became aware of the sound of footsteps shuffling around behind him. The human. The human was still alive. _Of course_ they were still alive. Would the world really be normal if they hadn't _miraculously_ survived all that?

Come to think of it, Gaster was kind of surprised he himself had survived. Huh. Weird. _That_ probably wasn't going to last long. Coughing painfully, Gaster rolled onto his stomach. He couldn't stop the cry of pain that squeezed past his gritted teeth when he jostled his broken arm. He managed to pull himself onto his knees, cradling his wounded arm against his chest. He settled his slightly-out-of-focus gaze on the human, who was pulling a sword away from what was left of one of their comrades.

Gaster should be standing up. Really he should.

He should be trying to grab that human's soul with blue.

Or throwing forward some bone attacks.

At the very least he should be begging for his life, like any respectable monster would do when faced with a determined human and a severe lack of any magic to defend themselves with.

But Gaster did none of these things. Mostly because he already realized it didn't matter. Gaster had killed two of this creature's friends. Were they friends? Yeah, probably. He had beat the thing nearly to death. He'd threatened twice to end it's life - and failed miserably _both times_. Now he was out of magic and out of luck. And from the look in that human's eyes - a bitter smile wormed it's way across Gaster's teeth - mercy wasn't what the human wanted to give to anyone right now. The way they brandished that sword, soaked in their comrade's blood, they didn't intend on listening to any final cries from some half-dead monster who wasn't worth the trouble.

Gaster really didn't blame them.

Though he had to admit, he had never really imagined he'd go out like this. Well, he'd never imagined _dying_ , actually. Out of the thousands of things that Gaster had mused and guessed about, the way he would die was _not_ one of them. It was far too pessimistic a thing to think about. But if he _had_ wondered about something like that, he severely doubted he would've come up with _this specific scenario_. This was one of those flashy hero deaths, where the guy went out trying to protect their friend in some valiant show of ultimate loyalty. That was the kind of death monsters like Amathea or Grillby would end up having. Not Gaster. He wasn't brave. He obviously wasn't strong, or he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

The human closed the distance between them, shambling forward brokenly but with grim purpose. Gaster cracked a rueful grin at them as they approached, mildly disappointed in himself for not being able to come up with some witty final last words. His soul gave a fearful flutter in his chest as the human stopped before him, face twisted in an angry sort of snarling scowl. They let out a grunt as they hefted their sword towards their shoulder. Gaster watches the movement, his soul going sick in his chest with a strange mix of apathy and regret.  
Just before the sword swung down Gaster flinched and closed his eyes.

The air was split with a shattering _crack_.

Gaster huffed out a surprised breath past his clenched teeth. That sound had come from behind him. The skeleton flicked his gaze up to the human, who had taken a step backwards in surprise, eyes glued on the space behind Gaster's shoulder. Gaster twisted around to look back.

The tree had a giant crack up through its center, splintering just slightly wider as the skeleton watched. The ghostly flame that had been devouring it was being sacked inside, ripping charing angrily at the bark before finally releasing and crackling away.

For a few moments there was deafening silence.

And then a hand, glowing with white fire reached out of the makeshift cave. Slowly, crackling bitterly from the effort to move, Grillby pulled himself out of the shelter and into the daylight. He pulled himself to his feet, wraithlike sparks and whisps of flame rippling away from him with every move he made. There was a pause where the elemental took in the scene before him, and then Grillby was stepping forward. He didn't say a word, only focused on dragging each foot in front of the other, weak but intent.

Gaster winced as the human dropped their sword, staggering back away from the skeleton as Grillby advanced. They brought their hands up to defend themselves, probably praying the miracle ward that had saved them from Gaster would save them from the elemental as well. But as soon as Grillby's fiery hands touched the magical shield, horror wrote it's way across their face. Whatever heat Grillby was exuding was intense, intense enough for even the skeleton to feel it brush across his bones when the elemental stalked past him.

When his hands met the invisible shield, it sparked and then warped like melting glass. The crack that Gaster had scored into its surface shivered open wider as the magical defense collapsed. Grillby leaned his weight against it, flickering in that furious white light, braced against the flying sparks as the shield tried and failed to deflect something that wouldn't relent.

With a resounding _crack_ it finally shattered completely, and as it did Grillby fell forward into the human now cowering before him. His molten form encompassed the pitiful creature, clinging to their skin as it began to melt and burn away. They curled onto the ground screeching, only inhale that angry flame in a gasp that seared then from the inside out. Abruptly their struggling and screaming stopped, overtaken by the sound of their body burning away into nothing.

Gaster blinked, a strange mix of gratefulness and confusion tugging at his soul. He watched what was left of the human crumble and burn away, blinking worriedly at the flame that consumed it - the flame that very much should be an elemental and right now looked like nothing more that a regular fire. Had... had Grillby just...?

What little gratefulness Gaster had managed to feel in his soul was immediately washed away by panic.

"Grillby?"

He scrambled to stand, letting out a painful gasp when his legs disagreed with the motion and he was instead sent pitching over to the side. Gaster managed to push himself back onto his knees, whining at every jostle of his broken arm.

"Grillby!" he called again, his voice giving a panicked crack, "You _moron_! You cannot be dead after I just about dusted myself saving you. _You hear me_?!"

The flame before him gave the barest of out-of-the-ordinary flickers, like it had just blinked into wakefulness. Then the white flame seemed to gather itself together, leeching away from what was left of the human and amalgamating together into a tottering, standing form. Grillby stood there a moment, swaying in his feet unsteadily before sinking to the ground again. This time, instead of just collapsing into a puddle of fire he managed to maintain his form. And as Gaster watched, the white of the blaster fire Grillby had absorbed slowly started burning itself away. It was replaced with the dull, red flame of the very exhausted elemental's normal fire.

Grillby stared back at Gaster, the familiar flickerings of an exhausted smile just barely giving his red flame the slightest hues of orange.

"I suppose that would be pretty rude of me," the elemental said weakly, his voice a sputter of smoke and relief.

Gaster grinned. He grinned and he laughed, relief washing over him in waves. Thank heavens. Thank everything. He laughed even as his whole body started shaking, his fear and panic from before finally catching up with him. And then he wasn't laughing anymore. He was sobbing, his good hand clasped against his face as if that could stop his hysterical tears from falling. His arm throbbed. His soul ached. Every part of his body burned with one tingling pain or another. He'd almost died. He'd almost... he'd…

At some point during his breakdown, Grillby crawled over the him. He wrapped the distraught skeleton up in a hug, seeping the most comforting kind of warmth Gaster had ever felt in his life. He hugged Grillby as best as he could back, finger bones grasping at the elemental's back while he buried his face against his shoulder. He winced every time a tear fell against Grillby's body, but Grillby himself didn't so much as flinch, didn't once move to pull away. He just held the shaking skeleton as he shuddered and cried. After what seemed like half an eternity of Gaster convincing himself he was crying over nothing and that he needed to pull himself together, the skeleton managed to speak.

He let out a miserable laugh that sounded just a little too much like a sob to be genuine, "This war is way too death-y for my taste, firefly."

Grillby's shoulders hitched, and Gaster couldn't tell if it was it was in laughter or a sob of his own.

"Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please ignore the uptake in spelling grammar weird word problems :'D
> 
> I'm posting this from my phone, and let me tell you it was a bear to write on such a small device! I'm currently at a Casino getting ready for some fireworks to go off (Happy Fourth of July to those of you that celebrate!). There's a very loud concert going on right in front of me, a lot of drunk people and cigarette smoke, and then... me... sitting in the back row... writing ahahaha.
> 
> It's worth it though lol. It's good music and even in spite of the distraction the change in scenery was pretty cool


	29. Staggering South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some monsters try to get home, but it's hard to walk far when you're both low on HP

It was Grillby who eventually brought both of them back to reality, the elemental breaking their embrace when he was sure Gaster wouldn’t break into any further hysterics.

“We need to find camp;” Grillby explained tiredly, his voice still ragged and hoarse, “There’s bound to be more humans where they came from. They’ll be crawling all over these hills looking for monsters.”

“But why?” Gaster asked, distraught, “Why the hell do they even bother? If we’ve lost, we’ve _lost_. They don’t have to exterminate us.”

Grillby sputtered a few weary sparks, “It’s a route.”

Gaster blinked at him, lost.

“It’s easier to wipe out an army that’s running than it is when they’re fighting back,” Grillby explained in a low voice, “We need to keep moving, and we need to hide.”

The elemental swept his gaze across Gaster, taking in the scuffs and scrapes that littered the skeleton’s frame. He carried himself hunched over, as if something were wrong with his ribs. And then of course there was the very obvious break in his arm - that had to be hurting him terribly.

Grillby himself still felt weak. He’d barely been conscious when he’d realized the tree above him was on fire, and the magic he’d absorbed from it was only just enough to get him standing. He wished for nothing more than to curl up on the ground and sleep. Sleep until he felt better. Sleep until someone found him and finally choked his flame out. He dreaded now standing up and trying to continue on, knowing any moment their doom could collapse on top of them. And… as much as he hated to admit it to himself, Grillby was afraid. He’d… never felt so mortal in his life.

If it weren’t for Gaster, he’d be dust.

It was with a bitter resolve in his soul that Grillby decided, no matter what, he was going to get them back to safety. Even if it took everything he had left. Besides, Amathea would kill them if they didn’t show up at some point. Or she’d tear apart the entire countryside looking for them.

“Can you stand?” Grillby asked finally, and Gaster snorted out a bitter laugh.

“Maybe. Can you?”

The elemental gave a short laugh of his own, “We’ll see.”

With a groan he pulled himself to his feet, his legs feeling heavy as led and weak as a fawn’s. His whole body felt exhausted and shaky, it took a concentrated effort to make sure he didn’t lose his form again. Grillby’s vision tilted subtly. But after a few seconds of swaying and searching for a balance that should have been natural and now seemed impossible, the elemental managed to stay on his feet. Gaster followed suit, groaning painful breaths past his clenched teeth with every movement.

It took them both a mighty effort to shamble to their shelter and grab the rest of their belongings from inside. Grillby hazarded to re-equip his tunic and boots at least, wincing when the still damp fabric burned against his core. But it was better than nothing, and he knew with as weak as he was it would be impossible to try and walk in armor. Gaster switched out his chainmail for his robes as well, sighing a bit with relief when the extra weight was cast off. At least now it would be a little easier to walk.

Then, leaning close to each other for support, the two broken monsters started walking.

“Scattered Hills Camp,” Gaster mumbled as they went, “That’s where Ammy said they’d be. There should be a river south of here. It’ll take us in that general direction.”

Grillby gulped down the nauseous feeling of fear that tightened the elemental’s throat, “We don’t… have to _cross_ the river do we?”

Gaster paused, frowning. The look in his eyes was haunted, fearful, “Uh… I’m sure… I’m sure I’ll be able to use blue by then. I can carry you across.”

Something in Grillby’s soul twisted, a worming sensation of dread creeping inside of him and his voice shivered, “... I can’t do that again.”

“I know, firefly.”

“I can’t cross a river, Gaster.”

Gaster nodded, offering Grillby a pat on the shoulder, “We’ll figure something out.”

Grillby tried to convince himself the shaking feeling overtaking him was exhaustion.

Eventually the two lapsed into silence, Gaster nudging them in a certain direction and Grillby concentrating on walking and listening. Every sound he heard sent a shiver through his core, every movement out of the corner of his eye startled him. If humans found them, they were as good as dead. Grillby’s core churned nervously. _If humans found them…_

Their pensive silence stretched on for hours, only ever broken when one or the other staggered and almost fell. Several times during the day they stopped, either because they had to rest or because they were sure they’d heard something that was worth hiding from. They spoke little, both too tired and too intent on their surroundings to bother. Once or twice in the distance they heard things, fractured shouts that bounced across the landscape too distorted to tell if they were from friend or foe - or from a fight between both.

When evening fell on them, they found some bushes to crawl into and huddled there for the night, one keeping watch while the other slept. Grillby took the first watch, too pensive to sleep even with how exhausted he felt. After all, the last time he’d slept, Gaster had almost been dusted. That was different, he told himself. He had no control over that. If he could’ve woken up any sooner he would have.

Just the thought of it made Grillby’s insides churn dismayingly.

Gaster curled up beside the elemental, wounded arm held close to his chest in an effort to keep it still as he slept. He stayed close to Grillby, soaking in the elemental’s natural heat as the chill of the night set in. And Grillby watched his surroundings as intently as he possibly could, hood pulled low over his face in an attempt to keep as much of his light hidden as possible. It took a mighty effort not to snap his head in the direction of any sound he heard, to convince himself not every rustle of leaves or falling branch was a pack of humans sweeping the forest for monsters to dust. Sometime around midnight Grillby couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer and was forced to wake Gaster so he could sleep.

Hours later, Grillby awoke to Gaster gently tapping his shoulder.

The minute his eyes opened Gaster was motioning for him to be quiet, a bony finger pressed against his teeth warningly. His eyes darted back to the space behind Grillby’s shoulder. Then elemental felt a shiver run through his core, and slowly as possible he looked back, gaze locking on the tall form of an armored human alarmingly close to him. They stood between two trees on a piece of higher ground, eyes scanning what of the forest unfurled below them that they could see. They looked ragged, armor covered in scarring from fighting, the dull sheen of dust coating it in places and blood spattering others. They had no real weapons to speak of. Once Grillby glanced what could have been a dagger on their belt. What _really_ concerned him though was the horn they held in their hand, ready to sound a warning at any given moment.

They were a scout of some kind, the elemental decided after scrutinizing them a few moments longer. There was likely some force of men nearby, waiting for them to return and tell of any groups of roving monsters they’d managed to spot.

Gaster moving in Grillby’s peripheral grabbed the elemental’s attention back. Wincing slightly, the skeleton signed as best he could with only one arm to work with. It took some repeating, but Grillby got the gist of it.

_What do we do?_

The elemental shook his head, signing slowly back, _we wait._

Gaster paused, eyes darting back up to the human before signing, _if it sees us?_

Grillby flickered a frown that was too subtle for Gaster to really see, _we run_.

The skeleton nodded, focusing the rest of his attention on the human instead of questioning further. He knew he was in no shape to fight. Grillby wondered if the short, uncomfortable rest Gaster had been allowed was even enough to replenish any magic. Grillby himself still felt starved, an empty pit where his energy should be. He might be able to fight, but he didn’t think he’d manage it for long.

They lay in wait for what felt like an eternity, willing the human to leave so they could make some escape. Finally, the human moved on, backtracking towards the north where whatever company they were moving with was sure to be waiting. Still the two monsters refused to move until they were sure the human would be too far away to spot them, and too unlikely to come walking back for anything. Then Grillby pulled Gaster to his feet, both of them taking a minute to regain feeling in their sleepy legs before they started off again. They staggered away as fast as they thought they could manage, dragging one foot in front of the other and constantly looking back over their shoulders.

“That was a scout,” Grillby explained in a whisper.

“Well if we’re lucky it’s just the one, then,” the skeleton breathed back, wincing as every step sent a jolt of pain through his arm and his ribs, “Scouts go before how many warriors? Eight? Ten?”

Grillby shrugged, “Maybe. If there really is _just one_.”

Gaster nodded forlornly, his face twisting into a frown, “Should we… I dunno… walk at night or something? Find some place to hide during the day?”

Grillby managed to crackle a tired chuckle, “Oh yeah sure. If you feel like walking beside a giant torch in the middle of the night.”

“Technically you’re still a torch in the middle of the day.”

“Yeah, a _much_ less noticeable one.”

Gaster gave a helpless shrug, immediately regretting the motion when it yanked a hiss of pain through his teeth. The elemental flickered a frown at him.

“You alright? That’s not leaking away HP is it?”

The skeleton gave a rueful laugh, “Thankfully no. The damage is already done. It won’t take anything else out of me unless I break it more - and we’re going to hope I don’t do anything to make that happen.”

A pause passed between them where Grillby scanned the world around them and Gaster nudged them in a different direction, trying to get them headed south again.

“If you want,” Grillby offered, “We could stop for a few minutes and you could heal it.”

“With what magic, firefly?” Gaster laughed, “I’m fresh out, and I’m not so much as _touching_ your soul until you’ve seen a real doctor.”

He frowned at the ground as it passed beneath his feet, letting the conversation trail off. There was a painful sort of haunted look that ghosted across his features, and he gave a withering sigh, “I should… probably be checking that actually.”

“That bad, huh?” Grillby hummed, morbid curiosity and fear writhing around in his soul. He’d intentionally been ignoring his stats ever since they’d started walking. He didn’t need to know just how bad his HP still was - how _fragile_ he had become. He didn’t _want_ to know. It was just one more thing to worry about. One more reason to fear being discovered. At least for now he could pretend he was just tired, and not on the brink of flickering out like a candle in a gust of wind.

Gaster’s voice, quiet and weary, dragged the elemental out of his thoughts, “... I didn’t think… you were going to wake up.”

Grillby looked away, flickering a weak frown as the skeleton continued.

“If I had been _seconds_ slower… you wouldn’t even be here,” he whispered, “And even after I started sewing your soul together you still passed out.”

Gaster wheezed out a miserable laugh, “I was… afraid… when I woke up… you’d just be...”

He ushered his hand towards nothing in particular, as if the motion alone could somehow explain the way he’d felt. As if it could encompass the fear, the hopelessness, _everything_ he’d been faced with. Grillby placed a comforting hand on Gaster’s back.

“Well I’m not falling down anytime soon,” Grillby said as optimistically as he could manage. Gaster didn’t respond.

Hours passed away in vigilant silence, the two monsters focusing on the task of getting to safety as quickly as possible - especially knowing there were humans somewhere behind them. Twice Grillby glimpsed the scout through the trees again, and they were forced to scramble for some place to hide while they waited for the creature to pass them by. Each time the human passed though, Grillby noticed they looked just that much more intent. They knew there was something out here.

The human came and went. The two monsters held their breath as they waited for the sound of footsteps to fade away. They continued on.

They hadn’t managed to walk more than an hour or so before a horn blast shook the air, making both monsters flinch in surprise. Grillby’s soul gave a fearful shudder as he spun around to look back the way they’d come. Sure enough, there was the scout that had been following them all day, standing proudly on the crest of the hill they’d just clambered over. Somewhere in the distance behind them, far away but still too close for comfort, an answering call resounded back.

The two monsters exchanged a look, turned and ran.

Gaster laughed past gritted teeth, “Well, it was nice knowing you Grillby.”

The elemental sparked bitterly, yanking his hood low over his head in the hopes it would make him a little less visible, “How much farther until we reach the river?”

Gaster made a senseless motion with his hand, “Firefly I know what the map looks like, not the exact distance away we are!”

Grillby felt his chest tighten, fear worming its way across his core, “Well let’s pray it’s close then!”

They ran and staggered, slipping on fallen leaves and dodging curling roots, all the while listening as shouts broke up behind them. The ground was rough, every hill they climbed was grueling and the steep slopes were just as much a hindrance while climbing upwards as it was while trying to descend. The brush was clumped just close enough together that it slowed their run, but just far enough apart that they could still be seen for some distance. The only good news was it hindered the humans as much as it did the monsters.

They scrambled their way up one particularly steep hill, Grillby grabbing ahold of saplings and some of their spiraling roots as he tried to pull himself up. Gaster was right beside him, his good hand clinging to Grillby’s shoulder so the elemental could help him up. They stopped at the hill’s crest, Grillby shooting a panicked glance over his shoulder to the movement below them. The scout that had sounded the alarm was running his way to the base of the hill they’d just climbed, and the elemental could make out the scrambling shapes several paces behind them.

“Well, that sucks,” Gaster said breathlessly, “We’re trapped.”

Grillby snapped his attention back to the ground in front of him, flickering dismayingly. Just a few steps ahead, the world dropped off in front of them. Grillby stepped closer, peering down over the edge. His soul writhed in his chest at the height.

Gaster shifted on his feet, daring to look back, “If we run along the edge we might be able to find a way down before they cut us off...”

“We’re going to jump.”

“ _Are you insane?!”_ Gaster shrieked, “Falls like that _kill people!_ ”

“I don’t take physical damage,” Grillby pointed out.

“Well _I can_ ,” Gaster shouted, “And I don’t feel like dying today!”

Grillby scowled, “I’m going to break your fall, Gaster. Now _come on!_ ”

Before the skeleton could protest further, Grillby had clamped a hand on his arm and dragged him closer. In a swift movement he’d picked the skeleton up in his arms and took a few running paces towards the ledge.

Gaster dug his fingers into the fabric of Grillby’s tunic, screaming with every step the elemental took forward, “God damn it Grillby if you kill me _I will haunt you for the rest of your life!”_

Grillby closed his eyes and jumped.

For several sickening seconds there was a feeling of utter fear and weightlessness in Grillby’s soul. The wind howled past his face almost as loudly as Gaster was screaming. Grillby clutched the skeleton tightly, waiting expectantly for the impact of the ground against his feet.

A low hanging tree branch was the first thing that slowed their fall. Grillby let out a surprised shout as he crunched through the bark, snapping the limb in two. The fall from there to the ground was short, and Grillby found himself on his back in the grass, his entire core shuddering from the landing. He blinked up at the sky, the broken tree limb swaying menacingly above him. Gaster still clung to him, motionless and quiet, though Grillby could feel him shaking slightly.

“Are you dead?”

There was a pause, and then Gaster shifted, crawling away from the elemental and collapsing face-first into the ground.

“I’m telling Ammy you tried to kill me,” he whined.

Grillby coughed a laugh, slowly dragging himself to his feet, “You know, I don’t think she’ll care.”

He helped Gaster stand, pausing once to glance up at the fall they’d taken. The hillside before them was mostly rock and scattered clinging weeds, a few trees like the one that Grillby had fallen into clinging in some of the stone crevices. At the very top, gaping down at the monsters, was the scout they’d been running from. Their gaze met Grillby’s for a moment before they were shuffling away from the ledge, their voice bouncing down the wall as they shouted instructions back at the humans following them.

Gaster was already making his way along the wall, walking as fast as he could as he picked his way across. Grillby jogged to catch up with him.

“It’ll take them awhile to find a way down,” Grillby called, “We should break south while we still can.”

Gaster shook his head, pointing upwards with his good hand, “That scout just called for archers to get ready. We’re better off staying by the wall.”

Grillby sparked a frown, _oh brilliant_.

Gaster waved his arm in a grand gesture, “Besides, if we keep running south, won’t they get the idea that we’re trying to make it somewhere specific?”

Grillby huffed a sigh, “Maybe. But it’s the best chance we’ve got.”

The skeleton shrugged; about to say something else when the sharp _crack_ of an arrow rebounding off the rocks beside him cut him off. Grillby looked up in time to see three archers readying to fire, a fourth refitting a new arrow onto their bow. The elemental lurched forward and shoved Gaster towards an overhang in the rock, just in time to feel the shuddering impacts of a pair of arrows sinking into his core. The intent behind him made him stagger, his fire giving a bitter shudder. Then he jolted forward again after Gas-

Gaster?

Grillby slowed his staggering run into a confused jog. Gaster was… gone? To his left was just the rock wall of the hill side. To his right, rolling hilly forest. Before him, where his friend should be running there was nothing. What… what in the world…? A wall of worry hit him and he froze. Was Gaster hit? Was Gaster _gone?_ A surge of panic welled up in Grillby’s chest.

That was when a hand grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt and practically pulled him off his feet. He was dragged out of the open and thrown roughly into the ground in a… cave? Grillby hissed painfully when he was shoved down onto the ground, the earth here damp against his core and stinging like needles. There was a heavy boot pressed against the small of his back, keeping him pinned against the wet earth. His soul gave a painful, shuddering lurch when some of his HP was leeched away.

Grillby managed to raise his head a little to look around. Just ahead of him, Gaster was on his knees, close enough that Grillby could reach out a hand for him if he wanted to. But he didn’t move. Even in the dim light he could see the skeleton signing something over and over again, his face a fearful grimace.

_Don’t move. Whatever you do, don’t move._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, wouldn't a teleporter be handy right about now? :'D
> 
> Okay! Some quick news for you guys! My life is about to get kinda tricky in the next week or so. So here's the deal:
> 
> Sunday I am hopping on a train to Colorado and I will be gone all week. Gonna go visit some cool online friends and we're gonna meet for the first time it's gonna be great! However, this also means I have absolutely no idea how much writing time I'm getting this next week. If I get a lot of work done in the next few days (which I plan to, in between packing and such) then we'll still update like normal. I already have the next couple chapters planned out pretty well. It's just a matter of writing them all down. I'll have time to write Saturday, and in theory I'll have like 10 hours of train ride to write and such. But who knows?
> 
> All that to say, if I'm late or nonexistent this week, that would be why! I'm gonna try my hardest to maintain the schedule, but if it doesn't happen then unfortunately it doesn't happen. I know you guys don't mind all that much, but I still thought you should know!
> 
> Anywho, have a nice weekend, and wish us luck! :D


	30. Invisible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we receive some help we desperately needed... and definitely weren't expecting...

Grillby was a bitter mix of fear and confusion. But from the frantic warning Gaster was signing him, he decided for now that trying to fight back against whatever had grabbed him was a bad idea. He wished he knew _why_. He wished he could move his own hands to ask. He _really_ wished he wasn’t forced to lie against the damp ground the way he was. He could already feel it seeping into his clothes, and it _hurt_. Every few seconds he felt the aching jolt through his soul that said he was losing HP. It couldn’t be taking off more than one or two points at a time, but Grillby already didn’t have much to begin with. He wondered how long he could stay like this.

As best he could, Grillby looked around. The cave was shallow. Grillby could just make out the back of it past Gaster’s shoulder. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Grillby could make out the shady form of something up against the wall behind Gaster, and the slight glitter of metal. He could feel the presence of whoever was on top of him, and some sinking feeling in his soul told him these two creatures that had grabbed them weren’t the only ones in the cave.

What really baffled the elemental was how he’d missed the cave’s entrance when he’d been looking for Gaster outside. It was large enough to be obvious. He should have seen it. How hadn’t he…?

There was noise behind him, the shuffle of pensive footsteps as shouts resounded just outside their hiding place. The soldiers were coming. Grillby looked back over to Gaster, a questioning frown sparking across his features. The skeleton kept his eyes glued forward to what Grillby couldn’t see, slowly signing.

_They can’t find us. Two just ran past._

There was a pause and Gaster frowned, _spreading out towards the forest now._

The lights of his eyes darted towards something closer, _a kid. Using magic._

Whatever was crouched behind Gaster moved, that glint of metal moving with them to prod the skeleton in the side. Immediately, the skeleton stopped signing, flinching away from his captor just slightly. For what it was worth, Grillby managed to shoot them the nastiest glare he could manage. If they noticed, they didn’t react.

They waited, Grillby tense against the cold and damp that was slowly seeping into his core and Gaster obediently still and terrified. Eventually, the sounds of searching faded off into the distance, whatever pressure that was keeping Grillby pinned shifted impatiently. Soft voices started whispering back and forth to each other. Grillby could make out the harsh, jittering tones of human speech. The one above him was male he knew, older sounding and harsh. The one that argued back was higher pitched and weary, words clipped and answers short.

As subtly as he could manage, Gaster started signing a translation.

_Don’t know what to do with us. Man wants to kill us. Woman not so much._

Grillby frowned. The motion Gaster made was one he hadn't seen before.

_Guy says -_ that word again - _kill thousands. Wouldn’t run unless too weak to fight._

In spite of their situation, Grillby noticed a spark of humor in Gaster’s expression, _thinks he can kill you with a canteen full of water._

Grillby shuddered.

_Woman says he’s being stupid. We’re all running from the same thing._

The skeleton’s hands went still as he waited for a new turn in the conversation. Apparently the two humans were arguing each other in circles, their voices harsh and bitter whispers. At some length, the weight pinning Grillby down shifted, the man grumbling some last protest under his breath as he let the elemental free. Grillby blinked at Gaster, who signed simply.

_Be slow._

Grillby did what he was told, rising slowly to his feet. As he did so, the human who had been so insistently shushing Gaster moved into the open, joining the rest of the group at the front of the cave. Grillby gave a surprised flicker when he realized they were a child, a boy just barely too young to join the human armies. They joined four others who huddled at the front of the little cave. The man that had been holding him down was older, grey-haired and sour-faced. He was brandishing a canteen fearlessly in Grillby’s direction, and had a battered sword sheathed at his hip. The woman behind him was probably the same age as him, her long hair tied with a cord into a pony-tail, grey mingling with what was probably once very fair brown hair. They had two children with them, two young girls no more than thirteen years old. The taller of the two proudly wore a necklace inscribed with the monster nation’s delta rune. It glowed slightly, magical energy humming through it.

A tense silence stretched between the humans and the monsters, neither knowing what to do about the other. Finally, the man said something, voice gruff and demanding. Grillby and Gaster exchanged a glance. Gaster signed subtly.

_Wants to talk to you._

Grillby flickered an anxious spark, “Why?”

The skeleton shrugged, “You’re an elemental. He probably figures out of the two of us, you’re the guy in charge.”

Grillby sighed, frowning, “You speak human well enough to translate?”

As if to answer his question, the skeleton turned and spoke to the man in front of him. He signed his words so Grillby at least could understand what the skeleton was saying.

_What would you like to know?_

The entire group of humans seemed taken aback by this, the two adults especially exchanging a look of surprise. They hadn’t expected either of the monsters to speak their language, apparently. The man spoke to them warily, Gaster signing as his words as he talked.

_“There are soldiers all over these hills. That’s from your battle isn’t it? We heard they had cornered a large army on the hills to the north.”_

Grillby flickered a frown. Why would they be wondering about that? Well, he supposed these humans weren’t exactly soldiers. None of them wore any armor, and outside of the man speaking, none seemed to have any kind of weapons either. Their clothing was ragged and mis-matched, patched together in some places while others were left with new holes and stains. They looked very much like a family running from the war. Grillby realized he and Gaster looked pretty similar right about now.

“Yes, we came from the battle there,” Grillby said slowly, pausing with each sentence so Gaster could relay his words, “We were separated from the others while we fled.”

_“Where are you going?”_

Grillby frowned, cautiously answering, “Why do you ask?”

There was a pause where the man and the woman exchanged a few words, which Gaster basically translated to them asking _should we tell them anything?_ It was clear their whispered argument wasn’t doing much other than waste time and make their children nervous. The two girls huddled a little closer to each other, the boy looking back and forth between the arguing humans confusedly.

Gaster sighed, “Well at this rate, we might make it back to camp by next spring.”

Grillby crackled a quiet laugh, his color flickering slightly into brighter oranges, “Pretty sure Ammy will have torn apart the countryside by then.”

The elemental paused and then whispered, “Tell them we owe them a debt of gratitude for hiding us, and they don’t have anything to fear from us.”

“And why am I telling them this?”

Grillby looked back up at the small family, the adults still whispering suspiciously amongst themselves. Since the two monsters had begun talking, their voices had dropped even lower, the man especially suspicious of the tones in their voices, wary about what they could be planning.

“The woman said earlier we were all running from the same thing,” Grillby hummed, “And then they asked where we were going. If they’re fleeing the army as well, they probably think they’ll be safe wherever the monsters are hiding. Or this is a very elaborate trap. But somehow I seriously doubt that.”

“I’m going to remind you that we’re both half dusted and couldn’t escort a fleeing family _anywhere_ , let alone protect them if they asked us to,” Gaster grumbled, and Grillby shrugged.

“I offered to heal you.”

“Yeah, and I reminded you that you’re a moron,” the skeleton scowled.

The angry tone in his voice snapped up the attention of the humans who had now gone silent listening to them talk back and forth. With a bitter sigh, Gaster started translating to them, his hands moving wincingly as he signed out his words as well. He told them the two monsters were grateful, and had no intent to harm, tacking on a quick apology for raising his voice and scaring them.

He paused, glancing over at Grillby, before saying, _“You asked where we were headed. We are on our way to a camp we were promised would be near here. I… seriously doubt we will make it there in one piece though, especially with the soldiers hunting monsters down.”_

The man and the woman exchanged a few whispers before he said, _“Maybe we can help each other.”_

Grillby gave a nervous flicker.

_“There is a river south of here, and past it, the forest is said to be cursed. The soldiers won’t follow us there. No one who goes in has been known to come out again,”_ the man frowned in the direction of the children before saying, _“We wouldn’t be going there ourselves if we didn’t have to. But Cris knows magic, and Col is old enough now that the army will take him. If we can just get across the river, they will be safe from this mess. With the soldiers running through here, though, we won’t be able to make it. They shoot at anything that moves, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”_

Grillby was suddenly very conscious of the arrows still lodged in his shoulder. A normal human wouldn’t be able to recover from such a thing without a doctor to help them. He shuddered to think of how it would affect a child.

_“We know you’re wounded and weak,”_ the man continued, _“But Cris knows healing magic, and we have some food we can share. In return, we need protection.”_

Gaster tilted his head at Grillby, a humorless smile on his teeth, “So would you like to tell them now or later that if we take them across the river we’ll be walking them straight into an angry monster camp?”

The elemental crackled a weary sigh, “We need their help, Gaster.”

“Well yeah,” Gaster laughed bitterly, “But we can’t exactly thank them for their help by throwing them to the wolves.”

“Our word has to count for something;” Grillby said stubbornly, “Monsters aren’t cruel. If we explain the situation we were put in, surely they would let the family go.”

“There’s a fine line between _cruel_ and _overly cautious_ , firefly,” Gaster hummed, “And assuming they _do_ let the family go, do you think they’ll ever let a young magic user just walk away? Knowing if she ends up with the army, she’s going to turn into that thing that almost killed you?”

Grillby felt a creeping dread latch onto his soul at the mere thought. It made him feel sick, churning around inside him with bitter anxiety. But Gaster was already talking again, hands moving as he signed out words Grillby wasn’t paying attention to anymore, his voice a garbled mess of incoherent human speech. Grillby’s eyes had wandered over to that little girl who suddenly held just a little more menace than she had before. She would be a mage someday.

Gaster agreed to the human’s terms.  

With the evening fast approaching them, they settled into the little cave for the night. Grillby found a dry-ish corner to sit in and stayed there, watching quietly as the small family went about the business of building a fire and passing out their food for the evening. Gaster stayed beside him, making quiet observations as they went. The man’s name he learned was Brom, and he seemed to be an elder of some sort, perhaps a grandfather to the children. The woman was his sister, Alesia. The child mage was Cris, her sister Eva. Col seemed to be their brother.

The little family passed around a meager dinner of bread and jerky, and after they’d eaten Alesia brought the monsters a small portion for themselves. It was a meal Grillby had probably eaten a thousand times in his life, but never before had it tasted so good to him. A small amount of the void where his magic should be filled itself, his fire burned with a new sort of warmth. Gaster beside him seemed to feel the same way. The skeleton dug into his meal gratefully, sighing happily when he was finished and some of his HP had been replenished.

When they were finished, Alesia brought Cris over to them, and the human girl worked on healing them. She started with Gaster, placing her hands delicately on his arm and whispering quiet incantations at the wound. Her magic was weak. Grillby could just barely feel it’s presence emanating from where he sat. But her intent to heal was comforting and persistent, and within a few moments the angry fracture in Gaster’s arm had diminished to a few hair-thin cracks. The girl lacked the skill needed to heal the wound the rest of the way, but regardless by the time she was finished Gaster could move the arm in the grand gestures he was used to with only a dull ache echoing back at him.

Then she moved on to Grillby. As soon as she began healing, a strange sort of questioning expression crossed her face. She said something to Alesia with a quiet smile. Gaster smirked.

“She says your soul feels so big and empty,” the skeleton hummed, “And that she’s never felt anything like it before.”

“Most people haven’t,” Grillby answered quietly.

The girl smiled warmly, _“Well, I’ll consider myself lucky then.”_

She worked on Grillby as long as she could before Alesia deemed the girl was draining away too much of her own magic to continue. Then she ushered the little girl away, instructing her to get a good night’s rest. The family huddled close together near the entrance of the cave, Brom keeping a silent watch as the night went on.

Gaster elbowed Grillby gently, catching his attention, “You okay, firefly?”

“I’m worried,” the elemental answered with a nervous spark, “But… I’m glad luck was on our side for once.”

The skeleton snorted a laugh, “No kidding. Let’s just hope these guys’ intentions are as transparent as they seem.”

Grillby nodded, lapsing into silence again. He leaned back against the wall behind him, wincing just slightly at the prickling cold and damp there, but glad he had enough strength in him to fan his core warmer to combat it. It had been three days, and already he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be normal, to feel strong. He wasn’t in pain. He didn’t feel faint, or like his core was about to collapse in on itself. And while he still didn’t feel whole, he definitely burned brighter.

“You think Ammy’s still waiting for us to come back?” Grillby asked suddenly, and Gaster frowned beside him.

“... Do you think Ammy’s actually alive?” he countered, his voice and hands still with worry.

The elemental sighed out a breath of smoke, “I don’t know.”

When Grillby slept that night, he dreamed of rain. He dreamed of stinging, acid-like needles that clawed at him as they fell from the sky so thick and gray the world was a haze before it. He dreamed about a human whose face was a snarl as they glared at him in defiance, and the screaming spell that brought the whole of heaven down on top of them.

He awoke the next morning to Gaster gently shaking him and telling him if he burned any hotter he’d start catching things on fire. The family was watching the two monsters with concern, especially the frantic elemental that had somehow managed to burn white-hot in his sleep. Grillby mumbled a soft apology to them and hurriedly worked on containing himself as they passed around breakfast. Morning was a few hours old by the time they staggered into the sunlight and began their trek south.

Grillby and Gaster moved much faster now that they were healed and recuperated on some level. Gaster stayed close to Brom, the two talking quietly about where they were headed and how they were supposed to keep going in the right direction. It was strange seeing Gaster working side-by-side with a human. It was strange walking in their company, together, with no one trying to harm the other. It was strange watching their children play and complain, strange to watch a young mage use her magic to do silly things like blow leaves in her siblings’ faces and jump a few steps further away when they were playing tag.

Gaster and Brom stayed at the front, while the kids walked and played shortly behind them. Meanwhile, Alesia seemed to have taken a liking to Grillby, or perhaps she was just keeping a watchful eye on him. Either way, she walked shortly beside him, the two bringing up the end of the small procession of people. She spoke sometimes, mostly to the children, corralling them closer when they started to wander. But sometimes she spoke to Grillby, or to no one, and the elemental could do nothing more than flicker at her questioningly. After all, he understood nothing of their language.

By noon they were seeing signs of the soldiers again, and the light optimism the family seemed to be emanating immediately sobered. They clumped together, ushering the two monsters to walk close with them as well. Cris murmured a spell and they walked on in silence. When Grillby gave Gaster a questioning look, the skeleton signed with a look of muted wonder on his face.

_Invisible._

It was like this that they passed the soldiers they’d seen the day before, the group of them having stopped to rest in the afternoon warmth. Gaster had fun making obscene gestures at the scout that had spotted them the day before. Grillby was a little too paranoid to join in the fun, worrying too much on what would happen if the girl’s spell slipped for any reason. Though he had to marvel at her skill for her age - even war mages avoided illusion spells because of the power needed to maintain them.

As it turned out, Cris only managed to move with the spell for a few minutes before Brom had to carry her, the little girl exhausting herself before they’d managed to get a safe distance away from the resting soldiers. Even still she kept the spell going until they’d walked nearly an past the lazy encampment, finally swooning and dropping the spell. As she slept they passed her around, Brom first handing her off to Alesia to carry while they walked, and Alesia eventually handing the girl to Grillby when she was too tired to carry her anymore.

Well, Grillby could honestly say he’d never imagined he’d be carrying a human mage to safety before, let alone a child. She was so thin and frail, tired enough that she slept soundly even when she was lowered into the elemental’s arms. As vulnerable as she was, even in spite of the worry coiling around Grillby’s soul, he started to feel protective of her. Of all of them really. They were so… kind. He’d never felt human kindness before. He’d hardly thought it was even possible.

Nightfall found them making camp amidst a small hedge of trees, sheltered from sight for the most part by the dense foliage. As close as the soldiers were, and as open their camp, they chose not to light a fire - and also insisted Grillby pull his hood up in order to make himself less visible. As night fell, the autumn chill set in, the children complained but ultimately gave in to the reason of not having a fire to keep them warm with. Grillby watched them with a bitter frown.

“I’m about to do something dumb, aren’t I?” the elemental sighed to Gaster, whose face was already split in a grin.

“No no, this is going to be fantastic,” the skeleton chuckled. Grillby did the best eye-roll he could manage.

“Just tell them to get over here.”

The elemental settled onto the ground, lying on his back in the most comfortable position he could manage, knowing what was coming next. He sighed out a deep breath, stoking his core and flickering into warmer hues of orange, yellow and white. Gaster chuckled something to the humans, and Grillby could hear the questions in their voices back.

That was when Eva, the youngest daughter, crept over to him. She curled up at the elemental’s side, mumbling with happy contentedness to the others. Then Cris was laid beside him, the girl wiggling closer to the warmth in her sleep, until her head rested gently on the elemental’s outstretched arm. Then Col joined them, hugging Eva as she fell asleep. Gaster sat by Grillby’s head, grinning and chuckling.

“How’s it feel to be a portable fireplace?” he asked with a smirk, and the elemental crackled a sigh.

“This is literally the strangest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

Gaster laughed quietly, “I bet so.”

His laughter faded, his face resting into a soft, wistful sort of smile, “You’ve got to admit though, they’re a lot more pleasant when they aren’t charging towards you in a giant hoard of spiky death.”

“Most things are, I think,” the elemental responded, glancing down at the children nestled against him. Yep, this was definitely the strangest thing he’d ever done, and probably ever would do. He didn’t see himself helping any other humans any time soon, at least.

“Brom says we should be at the river tomorrow,” Gaster hummed, “We’ll be home soon.”

Grillby’s soul twisted fearfully in his chest, “... I can’t cross a river, Gaster.”

“Well, I’m a lot stronger now,” Gaster said, his voice optimistic and tired, “I should be able to carry you across.”

There was a pause.

“I won’t let you drown, Grillby.”

“I know.”

The skeleton sighed, giving Grillby a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “Try not to worry about it. It’ll be okay.”

With that, Gaster shuffled to his feet and made his way back over to Brom and Alesia, speaking with them in hushed voices about the walk tomorrow. Grillby watched the sky, trying to calm the feeling of dread crawling across his core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww so cute! We might not be home, but at least our heroes finally catch a break holy cheese.
> 
> Okay, so now I get go give credit where credit is due!
> 
> Originally, this chapter and the last chapter were supposed to go differently. In fact, they weren't supposed to exist! I was just going to go to what happens next chapter. However, a friend of mine over on Deviantart (moonshadow909) was sharing with me their headcannon on why the mages help the humans, and it sort of inspired this idea that there are in fact good humans/mages out there that are within our heroes' reach! I was going to breach the subject eventually anyway, very soon in fact! But the opportunity arose to actually show it instead of just telling it to you guys, so I took it!
> 
> So major props over to moon, who without their sharing of their prediction of how the plot was going to go, this section of the story never would've been written!


	31. Praying for Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which dark clouds will gather ‘round them and they know the way is rough and steep, but golden fields lie just before them where their home shall ever sleep
> 
> (The Wayfaring Stranger has become a recent favorite song of mine. Anywho, stuff start's going down in this chapter, again. You guys getting tired of the ride yet?)

Grillby awoke to Gaster’s hand on his shoulder, gently nudging the elemental awake. As soon as his eyes were opened, he saw Gaster motioning for silence and nodded. He could still feel the weight of the kids up against him - they hadn’t stirred once in the night, it seemed. Brom and Alesia were crouched just in Grillby’s peripheral vision, intently watching some point in the distance Grillby couldn’t see from where he lay. Gaster signed slowly.

_Scout._

The elemental nodded.

 _Pretend you’re asleep_.

He nodded again.

Gaster crept away, his steps light, so quiet Grillby hardly heard him as he slipped away. Ah man. He’d forgotten how silent the skeleton was when he wanted to be. He remembered a time when Gaster could sneak up on him without even trying. When had he gotten used to that?

The elemental tightened his grip on the children around him ever so slightly, preparing to protect them if he had to. The heavy crunch of boots stalked near enough for the elemental to hear, and Grillby frowned. A branch was moved to the side, a sharp intake of breath hissed as they were discovered. And then the startled shout as Gaster made his move. Grillby felt Eva cling to him fearfully as her and the other children were startled awake, though all of them kept wisely silent.

Grillby sat up in time to watch the human’s legs get swept out from under them, and they landed with a heavy crash against the scattered leaves on the ground. The skeleton summoned a blue attack in his hand, flipping it around and stabbing it straight through the scout’s chest. They let out a strangled noise as they braced themselves, only to blink in surprise when they felt no pain. Gaster leaned down against the attack, leering a grin. His hands signed shakily as he spoke.

 _“Don’t move stranger, or you’ll never move again,”_ the skeleton hissed in a whisper, _“You are familiar with blue attacks, yes?”_

The scout’s eyes widened, and they just barely dared a whispered yes of an answer. Gaster winked his broken eye shut, smiling.

_“Then I suggest you stay very still.”_

The skeleton then reached down to yank up their dagger and horn, tossing them both off into the distance somewhere while Grillby helped the children to their feet. All three of them dashed over to Brom and Alesia, both of which were looking at the pinned human with a mix of horror and bitter resignation. It could’ve been much worse after all.

Grillby realized this as well, smirking, “Suddenly rethinking killing things, Gaster?”

The skeleton gave a dry smile, “Eh, these kids don’t need that kind of nastiness on their conscious yet.”

The elemental eyed the scout, frowning thoughtfully, “Well if you’re not going to kill him, at least throw his shoes away too.”

“His _shoes_?”

“If it slows the soldiers down, it’s worth it. When your attack wears off, he’ll have to find them before he can track us down. That and his horn. If we’re lucky that’ll buy us enough time to get across the river before the rest of the soldiers come crashing down on us.”

Gaster frowned thoughtfully for a moment before chuckling, “Good point.”

While Gaster worked on removing the scout’s shoes, Grillby got the family ready to leave, ushering for them to quickly gather anything they’d scattered in the night. Then they were off, moving as quickly as they could herd the children along. Brom led the way, pushing them steadfastly south. Grillby and Gaster took up the rear, alert for any signs of more scouts or soldiers in the woods. Grillby felt tense, his core shivering anxiously and his soul pulsing in his chest. In the distance they heard that horn finally sound off, the echo of it just barely carrying to them over the breeze.

Gaster told the humans to hurry.

Now Grillby was checking behind them at every hill they climbed. The soldiers would catch up to them, he knew they would. They were trained for persistent marches and fast sprints, trained to follow enemies trying desperately to flee. Even fully healed, Grillby and Gaster would have had trouble shaking them of, and slowed as they were by three children, there was no way they could move fast enough to evade them completely.

It was Col who spotted the first soldier, the boy having noticed Grillby’s constant backwards checking and beginning to take it up as well. He shouted and pointed just past Grillby’s shoulder, and the elemental turned in time to watch the glint of steel in the distance catch in the sunlight. He braced himself in time for an arrow to punch into his chest, grimacing as the intent behind it sent him stumbling back a step. He answered in kind, a flaming lance shivering to life and rocketing off in the general direction the human had shot from. Grillby watched the archer dive for cover just as the lance hit their previous hiding place, the impact of the attack scattering debris and fire before it fizzled out.

Col pumped a fist in the air, shouting some triumphant something-or-other that Grillby couldn’t understand. They grinned up at the elemental, only to gasp when they saw the arrow sticking menacingly out of his chest. Grillby simply yanked the pestering thing out of his chest before shooing the child after the others. He knew the kid would never understand him if he tried to explain it didn’t hurt. But Col would realize sooner or later that Grillby wasn’t turning to dust, he supposed. Gaster shouted ahead at the others that they needed to run.

“How much farther?” Grillby called, and Gaster gave an incredulous laugh.

“You know, I think we’ve had this conversation before!”

“Ask Brom, bonehead, he probably knows!”

Gaster gave an exasperated, flailing sign as he ran before chattering the question back to the human.

“He says it should be just ahead,” the skeleton called back, and Grillby nodded.

He kept an eye at their back, watching as two or three archers wove their way through the trees behind them. They ran from cover to cover, staying stubbornly out of the line of Grillby’s fire. One shot was enough to make them cautious, it seemed.

“There it is!”

Grillby slid to a halt just before he ran into Col again, the child having stopped with the rest of the group as soon as the river came into sight. Grillby just glimpsed the stony beach through the trees as the grass gave way to shore. Once he thought he saw the glint of water. The elemental turned to look behind them, scattering two of the archers who had taken aim in the time the others had stopped. Behind them, he could see glimpses of more soldiers moving through the trees, these likely toting swords. With an urging shout he hurried the group onward, stopping to throw a few of his fiery lances back at their pursuers before he followed.

Grillby made it out of the tree line last, stumbling to a shuddering halt of the rocky beach of the river. And it was a _river_. From where he’d stood before, he hadn’t gotten a clear view of it, but now he could see just how _impossible_ it was. The water was fast, rushing along in a churn of greens and browns. All the rain the wizard had conjured just days before was still draining off the hillsides and into the river, raising the water higher and churning it faster. And from how far away the other side of the water was, Grillby highly doubted Gaster would be able to carry him.

Gaster seemed to be thinking this as well because he was already running dozens of questions by Brom, talking too fast for the elemental to keep up with his frantic hand motions. But with every answer he was given, the skeleton just looked that much more desperate. Meanwhile Alesia had her arms around the children, a bitter and forlorn expression on her face. Even if she and Brom somehow make it across, there was no way they were getting the children through. Not without risking them being swept downstream.

“Gaster!” Grillby barked, cutting off the frantic skeleton halfway through another sentence, “What’s Brom saying?”

Gaster gave Grillby a distraught frown, voice shuddering slightly with panic, “He says this is the ford. It’s… the water here is only supposed to be ankle deep. But clearly it’s _not_.”

Grillby tilted his head at the rushing water, “Is there another crossing point?”

Gaster shook his head, “Not for miles.”

Grillby nodded, scowling at the rocks at his feet. Finally he looked up at Gaster again, “Can you get across?”

“Firefly, _no_.”

Grillby crackled angrily, colors flushing into blues and whites, “Gaster _can you get across?_ ”

Gaster stamped a foot on the ground firmly, “I am _not_ leaving you here!”

“You have to,” the elemental barked, sweeping a hand out at the river, “Unless you think you can pull me across _that_.”

Gaster opened his mouth to protest, but Grillby cut him off, clasping his hands fervently on the skeleton’s shoulders and shooting him a stern glare.

“Listen, these kids aren’t going anywhere either. They need help, or they’re going to be trapped over here when those soldiers start trying to tear us apart. You’re the fastest one here anyway. If anyone can get help it’s you.”

Gaster opened his mouth again, hands twitching as he tried to come up with some sort of argument, before finally he said, “If they overpower you, they’re going to throw you in the river Grillby. This isn’t like a battlefield. _They actually can win_.”

“I _know_ ,” Grillby sighed, “But what else can we do? Even if you could somehow get both of us across without being swept downstream, there’s no way you’ve gained enough magic back to carry all those kids – and Brom sure can’t fight off soldiers on his own. If you have any better ideas, tell me and I’ll be happy to try _anything_. But I can’t see a better way.”

Gaster paused. Grillby could see his mind frantically searching for answer, before finally he huffed an angry sigh. He slapped Grillby’s hands away from his shoulders and straightened his robes, finally resolving himself on what to do.

“You better not die before I get back,” he growled as threateningly as he could manage. Grillby sparked a weary smile.

“I’ll do my best.”

Gaster spun on his heel and stormed towards the river, shooting a very bitter “I’ll be back” in Brom’s direction as he went. He hesitated at the water’s edge for a moment before stepping in. His first few footsteps were easy, the water near the bank shallow and slower than the water further in. But with every step it got deeper and quicker, surging up past his knees and rushing around his waist. By the time he’d sloughed halfway across, the water was up to his middle and threatening to yank him away. He almost lost his footing once, Grillby watched him stagger to the side with the current. But Gater pinged his own soul with blue, making himself heavier and harder to push.

Grillby watched him struggle through until he finally managed to clamber into shallower water, the blue of his soul flickering as his grip slipped and finally released. Gaster didn’t as much as look back when he made it to the far shore. He ploughed through the tree line and disappeared on the other side. Grillby sighed, smoke ringing itself around him as he turned to face the hill he knew the soldiers would soon be clamoring down. With the flick of his wrist he pulled open his inventory and started equipping items. His sword flickered into existence in its sheath at his hip, the familiar weight of his armor slipped across his torso and shoulders. His shield slipped onto his arm, and he ran a thumb across the prayer of protection etched into the back of it.

_Element of fire, grace of the sun, protect me and mine, ere the day is done._

Grillby pulled the shield from his arm and offered it to Alesia, who still stood with her arms wrapped around the children’s shoulders. She looked at it fearfully, took in every crack and score across its surface. It was Col who grabbed it, grunting under its weight before hefting it onto his arm proudly while his sisters huddled that much closer to him. Brom approached then, whispering something earnestly to Cris. The little girl nodded and then whispered a spell. As her and her family crouched around Grillby’s shield, they all disappeared from sight. The elemental smirked.

Hopefully they wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire now.

Up the hill, he could hear the scattered shouts of the soldiers coming closer. Apparently the archers had decided to wait until the rest of the force was there before daring to fight against the elemental again. Grillby drew his sword, and as he did he formed four of his fiery lances into being. He flipped the sword in his hand experimentally, reminding himself of it’s weight and balance.

The first of the soldiers crested the hill.

* * *

Gaster had never run faster in his life. He scrambled, he clawed, he kicked and lunged. And all the while he screamed for help. Someone was bound to hear him. Someone _had_ to hear him. He tore up hills and stumbled back down their slopes again, crashed through their valleys dodged in between trees. Every few steps he threw up an attack beneath his foot, shooting himself into the sky in the hopes of seeing something, _anything_. But each time he was met with nothing but the vast expanse of trees and foliage, and a growing sense of helplessness. There was a bitter churning in his soul, making his whole body feel sick.

If he’d just been strong enough, this wouldn’t have been a problem. If he’d been strong enough, he could’ve saved them all. If he were strong enough he could have grabbed all of their souls with blue and ferried them across. If he were strong enough he would be fighting with Grillby, blasting the soldiers off the hillside before they could cause any more mayhem. If he were strong enough he could’ve ripped a tree over with blue and thrown it across the water for a bridge. _If he were just strong enough_. But he _wasn’t_. Once again, Gaster was powerless.

So he ran and he called, until his soul ached and his arm throbbed from every jarring impact that agitated the cracked bone. In his frantic, headlong rush, he tripped on a scramble downhill and tumbled. He landed at its base with a startled shout, catching a face full of dirt and yanking away a dozen HP in the process. Before he could stand himself, a large, clawed hand gripped him by the scruff of his robes. He was lifted into the air as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll before being dropped back on his feet. Gaster looked up, a ragged sigh of relief wheezing past his teeth.

Towering over him, muzzle transfixed in an ever-unpleasant snarl, tiny wings ruffling on his back, was none other than Brigg. But his normally bitter eyes reflected concern as he looked the frantic skeleton over, his snarl softened into something less demanding. His voice grumbled low in his chest, a growl that shook the air with its bass.

“You were with the elemental.”

Gaster nodded breathlessly, “We need _help_.”

The commander barked a command over his shoulder, calling a handful of warriors that had been patrolling with him into the open. The monsters watched Gaster expectantly, Brigg making a grand gesture back the way Gaster had come.

“Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this in the wee hours of Thursday morning because time zones are weird and I honestly don't think I'll be able to post during the day.  
> Also a forewarning that half of next chapter is done, however our travel day back home is on Saturday/Sunday, so unless I do some good writing on the train ride home (which I didn't manage on the ride here) we won't have a chapter on Monday. I apologize if it happens! Once again, trying my best. But it's really looking like it won't. In fact, this was supposed to be in that chapter, but it got really super long (5000 words) and it was maybe halfway through the scene, so I cut it here. Sorry to those of you who I'm annoying with cliff-hanger-style chapter endings! Most of those are because I don't have time to finish the chapter the way I'd prefer.  
> And one last thing I forgot to mention last week! Cris got her name from one of Moon's OCs (moon being the amazing person who got me started on this chapter idea). I really wanted to add in some shoutout to the credit somehow, and I hope that shows how much I care at least a little!
> 
> ((okay so under here is me rambling if you're just reading the notes for story-relevant stuff, you can stop now.))
> 
> Anywho! I'm feeling particularly vulnerable tonight so let me tell you about my life right now. I apologize because just this preface is already me rambling.
> 
> First of all, Colorado if fucking beautiful. I live in the East US, which is really flat and boring and mostly farm stuff with some important towns, right? And I take a train out here (which was both hellish and amazing) and I am literally blown away by how beautiful it is. How can one place literally go from rolling prairie to the most gorgeous mountains I've ever seen in my life? How? Not to mention I read like 1000 Westerns when I was a kid, Louis L'Amour was my idol when it came to authors for the longest time. And this is the place his stories were based in and around. I can now actually picture what my story book heroes meant when they said the land sprawled for miles. How the mountains literally towered. The descriptor mountainous means so much more to me right now.
> 
> And my lovely host (a friend I met on DeviantArt, whom I've been talking to for several years and have now finally been able to meet in person) has made this entire trip a beautiful experience. I have never been so blown away by anyone's hospitality or friendliness. She drove us up a mountain guys. She's terrified of heights and has anxiety but when me and my travel buddy told her we'd never been in these mountains she drove us up a mountain. On some one-way dirt road with sheer cliff drops on some sides. And let me tell you it's literally the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life.
> 
> Then of course there's this shitty thing called altitude sickness that keeps doing things. The good news is me and my buddy have been staying super hydrated, so most of the nasty symptoms we've avoided (I've had some headaches but that's literally it). But like I feel horrible just walking around? I'm out of breath going up stairs sometimes, and like we were going to actually walk to the actual top of the mountain and I literally had to stop and catch my breath every 10 steps. Like, I know I'm not a shapely person. I'm pretty chubby, I live a really sedentary lifestyle. But I've walked in the parks back home before, you know? I love going through the state parks and hiking on the trails there. And I don't get that out of breath. But literally walking up a small incline had my heart beating out of my chest because of how unused to the lack of oxygen my body was and I felt horrible. I'm just... really self conscious. I hate my size and, not so much how it impedes my lifestyle, but more so how it's stereotyped and judged. People make gags on TV about people my size or larger not being able to move ten steps, and for the most part I proudly hide how out of breath I get when I have to jog to get to class on time or climb a few flights of stairs for something. But it was literally impossible there. My friends could tell I was struggling (and to be fair, my travel buddy was struggling too) but it just make me feel like a shit human being. It was really discouraging and I'm still really scared my friends have judged me based on that. Ugh.
> 
> Anyway, that aside, I really have enjoyed it here. I'd love to live here someday if I ever get the chance, really I would. sigh
> 
> But now I'll go ahead and skip off here. Sorry for talking so much! I'm just very far away from home, and needed to vent and process everything I've seen and done the past few days. To any of you that read this far, uh... you're quite determined there! I apologize for overloading you with my random gushings, but I thank you for caring to read! Stay awesome.


	32. The Undying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone takes a swim, and it's definitely not a pleasant one!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aiy this week we have a fanart feature! And I'm bubbling over with excitement and gratitude! Because people drew my favorite parts of this story and I'm completely insanely happy you guys are wayyyyyy too nice! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!
> 
> So the first is "Downpour". Bet you can't guess which scene that is! :'D Seriously the emotion they captured is great! Everyone looks so scared! (Except Ammy, who doesn't feel fear only ANGER)  
> http://warriorcatdragon.deviantart.com/art/Downpour-620940873
> 
> And the next here is a sketch set by the amaaaazing GamerSelkie on DA, who has done so much fanart for this darn story like holy cheese just take my love.  
> They actually drew Grillby in that whole molten-cooling-weird-lava-state and it looks so coooooool
> 
> http://gamerselkie.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-Sketches-620992819

When Grillby fired he aimed straight for any archers he saw - he didn’t need them missing him and accidentally shooting one of his humans by mistake. The blasts scattered them easily, two of his lances missing just barely while the others slammed directly into the targets he’d aimed them for. Then he was summoning forward spinning wheels of fire, sending them cartwheeling up the hill towards the soldiers scrambling down towards him. One of the wheels missed completely, lighting a large section of brush on fire. Grillby scowled. He couldn’t afford to be sloppy. Not right now. And here he was missing things. Where had his control gone?

Two humans made it to the base of the hill before the rest, charging towards the elemental with angry shouts. Grillby loosed his last volley of spears into the hillside before swinging his sword forward, to intercept the blade of the nearest one. The second ran right past him. For a panicked second, Grillby thought the family had somehow been found. He threw his shoulder into the human before him, ignoring their blade as it bit into his armor and throwing them to the ground. He spun to the human who’d run past -

Grillby had just enough time to stagger backwards as a spray of water when flying towards him, his arm outstretched in an effort to ward off the bits that hit him. His arm sizzled painfully at the droplets that landed, but most of it missed. The human who’d run past was ankle deep in water, dunking their helmet into the river and dragging back up more water to throw. Before he could toss it forward, Grillby launched a lance into his chest, exploding the soldier back into the river where they were sucked away downstream.

Something slammed into Grillby from behind and suddenly the elemental was thrown horrifyingly close to the water’s edge. He threw his hands out to stop his fall, only to have the loose pebbles and mud slide beneath his fingers. His arm slipped out from under him and slid forward, a cloud of steam erupting around it as it was plunged into the water that was now inches away from his face.

_Pain_. Like his entire arm had been ripped apart. The elemental shoved himself away from the water and managed to wrench himself to his feet, a garbled scream caught in his throat as his panic constricted it shut. Finally it wrenched itself out of him in a muffled sob as he frantically stumbled away. Then there was movement in the corner of his eye, and Grillby swung blindly with his good arm, still clutching his sword in a balled fist. The broadsword crashed into the chest of the oncoming solder, crumpling their armor and cutting a bleeding gouge into their chest before they collapsed to the ground.

Four more humans had made it to the base of the hill. And now they were advancing, slowly encircling the wounded elemental, trying to back him once again into the water. The elemental backed a wary step away from them, wincing against the movement as it shot pain through shuddering core. The spark of movement caught his eye, and he dared a glance past the humans at the blazing hill side.

Grillby threw forward his wounded arm, growling as the movement cracked his cooling core and sent another shiver of pain lancing through him. As he leaned forward the fire on the hillside answered, his intent snatching it up where it writhed and pulling it in towards him. With a roar the fire leaped off the hillside and crackled into the waiting elemental’s body, scattering the humans as they moved to get out of the way of the smothering heat. Grillby felt a short rush of energy burst through his core, and the pain in his arm disappeared as the smoldering core reignited. Wielding his sword in both hands, Grillby charged towards the nearest soldier.

Grillby spun and slashed, parried and dodged, and all the while he struggled to find some balance between his distance from the river and his distance from the family hiding in plain sight. He didn’t want to walk too far away from them for fear of the soldiers stumbling into them. The soldiers had seen the family running with the two monsters – there was no way the soldiers would just let them leave. But now the rest of the soldiers had picked their way down the hill, and Grillby found it hard to hold his ground when all seven of them wove around him at once. He didn’t have much to fear from their weapons, but getting in close to them just opened him up to another shove back towards the water.

One fall had been enough to tell the elemental that was something he needed to avoid at all costs. So Grillby fought with everything he had. His sword sung through thrusts and slashes, burst of flame sent men staggering back. Once he managed to wrap a fiery hand around a soldier’s arm, a burst of heat bending the metal beneath his grip and sending the man to his knees.

Grillby jabbed forward at the soldier standing nearest to him. He realized the minute he did it something was going amiss with the strike. The soldier twisted just slightly to the side, their blade coming up in a maneuver that locked their swords together hilt to hilt. There was a second where Grillby was forced to pause to wrench his sword free, and two soldiers ran up beside him, shouting incoherent words of triumph. Before the elemental could so much as brace himself something was intercepting them, all angry screams and a rough flurry of glinting metal.

Col had torn away from the family of humans, braced behind Grillby’s shield as he slammed into the first of the charging soldiers. The surprise and sudden impact sent the man staggering into his comrade, and they fell in a tangle of limbs and armor. Grillby wrenched himself free of the human before him and, core humming in frantic reds and purples, staggered to put himself between the child and the soldiers recovering from his sudden appearance.

Grillby glared down at the child, who did nothing less than beam up at him and heft that shield a little higher. He shouted something enthusiastically that Grillby couldn’t understand, and the elemental huffed an agitated breath of smoke. Were all human children so reckless?! Well, it was pointless yelling to the child about what they’d done. They wouldn’t be able to understand a word the elemental said anyway.

So instead Grillby just stretched an arm out protectively out in front of Col, glaring as threateningly as he could at the soldiers regrouping before him, and willing the child not to do anything else as stupid as the stunt they’d just pulled. Brom made it to his side then, the old man shouting angry words at the soldiers as he brandished his sword forward. Col smiled at the man, fearless and proud even in spite of the peril he had just thrown himself into.

Grillby’s soul writhed anxiously in his chest. _Why?_

Why make everything worse? Why put themselves in this position? Grillby couldn’t help but marvel at these humans’ recklessness. They shouldn’t have helped the monsters in the first place. They could have just let the soldiers chase them down and act as some sort of decoy while they made their escape the first time. Instead they’d sheltered them, healed them, offered safety in numbers. And here was this child and his grandfather, quite obviously defying the soldiers that stood before them, soldiers they must know they lacked the skill to fight. If they had just stayed hidden, there was a chance they could have escaped. Why had Col run over to save him? He could understand Brom coming to protect the child now, but the man should be telling Col to run and be trying to escape himself, not standing beside Grillby and brandishing a sword at human soldiers.

_Why?!_

Well regardless, they were his problem now.

Determination bubbling in his soul, Grillby glared towards the soldiers who brandished their weapons so dangerously in his direction. He twirled his sword in his hand, feeling the tug on his soul as he willed his magic to burn forward. He silently prayed Brom and Col were smart enough to keep their distance.

A wave of fire rippled forward to meet the humans as they came running towards him, and Grillby’s soul felt sick with the magic it took to bear it forward. Two of the humans crashed through it, yelling startled shouts as the heat singed their skin and heated their armor. The others managed to retreat before it, backtracking several steps in order to dodge the oncoming assault. Grillby took the moment of panic in the men who’d made it through, charging towards them sword outstretched. The first he felled in a blow they didn’t see coming, their eyes still dazzled by the brightness of the wave that had washed over them. The second recovered in time to fight back, his sword a furious movement of parries as he struggled beneath the elemental’s onslaught.

Then the wave of fire Grillby had summoned died off, and the soldiers that had balked before it were now approaching. The elemental gave the man he’d been engaging a hearty shove, sending him tumbling to the ground, before he backed up heavy steps to guard Brom and Col. His fire flared back to life again, anticipating the blows of the soldiers coming forward.

A thunderous roar shook the air, followed by the heavy splash of something ploughing through the river. Grillby sparked in surprise and turned towards the rushing water, flame pitching into flickering hues of relief. Brigg was storming towards him, his gigantic form tearing through the muddy water in heaving strides. On the far bank he could see Gaster standing with a handful of other soldiers, too weak before the flood to risk barreling through it like the captain had. But magical attacks were being prepared, and the first rain of magic came crackling across the water, aimed towards the soldiers who had also paused to balk at the monsters that had come to the rescue.

The falling hail of magic snapped the soldiers back into motion. Two came crashing forward, desperate to get to the elemental before Brigg could save him. One unslung a bow from his back and turned to aim towards the firing monsters. The remaining hefted shields in the air, hoping to defend against the raining attacks.

Grillby darted towards the soldiers charging towards him, movement in the corner of his eye telling him Brom had moved to join him. The two of them crashed into the coming men, swords flashing in parries and thrusts. Grillby prayed the old man could hold his own in a fight. The elemental himself was already getting tired, he could feel it in the heaviness of his blade and the slow response of his magic. But it was almost over, he kept reminding himself it was almost over. Help was arrived. They were going to be saved.

As if to answer his thoughts, the crackling of magic exploded to life in Grillby’s peripheral. The elemental lunged towards Brom, shoving the man to the side as a conjured hammer, flickering in jagged colors of green and yellow, smashed into the ground. Brigg’s attack sent shockwaves through the ground, spirals of magic stabbing at the soldier’s feet and legs as they shrieked and stumbled backwards away. Brom watched as the magic fizzled, mouth agape in a look of wonder and fear as Brigg towered over him. The dragon monster hefted his hammer high on his shoulder, ready to throw it forward again to ward off the coming soldiers should they make another charge.

“Elemental, get ready, we’re getting out of here,” the dragon growled, yellow eyes daring the soldiers to take a step forward.

Grillby shook his head adamantly, “Take me across last.”

“Are you insane, boy?!”

But the elemental was ignoring him, turning to run back to where Col was standing. The little boy was watching Brigg with a look of absolute wonder, eyes sparkling as he grinned up at the heroic captain. Grillby grabbed the boy’s attention, pointing to the captain and then across the river. By some miracle, Col seemed to understand what the elemental was trying to say. With an enthusiastic scream he started babbling off something over his shoulder. Alesia’s voice answered back, and the invisible shield around her and the two girls dropped. Cris was already in Alesia’s arms, the fatigue of holding up the spell for as long as she had already getting to her.

Grillby dashed back to Brigg, who was hammering another attack into the ground, threatening back the wary soldiers who were already starting to press forward.

“Take the children across,” Grillby commanded, feeling the tired pull on his magic as he formed two more lances into being, “I’ll hold them back.”

“Boy I am a captain you’ll do what I say,” Brigg snarled, “I’m not risking my neck for a pack of humans!”

“I’d be dust already without them!” the elemental argued back, “Brigg, if you’re leaving them here at the mercy of these _monsters_ , you’re leaving me here too then!”

Grillby sparked through every bitter color he’d ever felt in his life, whites blues and purples twisting together in jagged, sputtering colors. The dragon glared back at him, his face wrinkled in a bitter snarl, scales bristling slightly. Honestly, he was strong enough he could force the elemental if he wanted to. It wouldn’t be too hard just to throw the monster over his shoulder and start wading back across the river. But in the end Brigg was still a proud monster, and there was too much good will in his soul for that kind of thing even now. With one last growl and a puff of angry smoke through his nostrils, Brigg turned to jog towards the humans on the bank, his magical hammer vanishing with a crackle of bitter magic.

“You better know what you’re doing, elemental!” he snarled back over his shoulder. With rough hands he snatched up Col, dropping the kid on his back to cling to the wings fluttering on his shoulders. Then he grabbed up Cris and Eva, one in each of his massive arms, and began wading back into the river. Eva started screaming the minute she was taken away from Alesia, scared and confused. Grillby could hear the woman calling words of comfort across to her from where she was left stranded on the shore.

Grillby sputtered a sigh of relief, and with renewed resolve in his soul, moved towards the soldiers still standing on the bank. There were six of them left, all of them ragged and tired from the fighting they’d already done. Three still had their shields raised, fending off the magical attacks that still cast themselves across the river to them. The archer among them was refocusing his attention on Brigg. Grillby had to stop that.

The elemental broke into a run, releasing the lances he’d summoned on the two remaining humans on the bank. One dodged out of the way, he watched her move out of his peripheral as he passed. The other took the hit square in the chest and was knocked onto their back, armor crumpling and melting together under the searing heat, though the vacant expression in their eyes said they felt nothing of it.

The archer, intent on Brigg as he made his way across the river, hardly saw the elemental coming until just before they loosed their arrow. Panic gripped them for a moment, Grillby saw it in the way their eyes widened when they finally realized how close monster had managed to get to them. Not knowing what else to do, the spun towards the elemental, loosing the arrow they’d pulled back. The thing bit into Grillby’s shoulder, the intent and fear behind it almost making the elemental stumble. But Grillby was already too close. He slammed his sword forward.

One of the shield bearers leaped forward in time to catch Grillby’s falling sword before it could sink itself into the helpless archer. The force of the blow notched a grove into the shield, and the human was sent to their knees under the weight of it. Then the other shield bearers were turning on him, their plight against the monsters across the river momentarily forgotten as they scrambled to save their comrades. Grillby backed a few steps away, flickering forward another pair of lances –

The lances the elemental had summoned fizzled out almost instantly, roiling in unstable reds and oranges before collapsing on themselves and into a shower of sparks. Grillby felt his soul give an empty shudder, and he took another step back.

Was he… out of _magic…?_

He wasn’t given a chance to wonder about it. The human his previous lance had missed suddenly crashed into his side, screeching incoherent threats as she shoved him towards the river. Grillby struggled to regain his footing, to stay on his feet as she drove him backwards. He managed to slam his heel backwards and stop his sideways stumbling just before the river’s edge, his boot sinking into the loose gravel and sandy mud. He lifted his sword in time to catch her’s before it finished its downward plunge towards his chest, their blades sliding together until their hilts locked.

Grillby shuddered at the feeling of cold as it swirled around his ankle. He was thankful he had thick boots to keep the water at bay. But his foot was sinking deeper as the soldier threw her body weight into him, trying to slowly push him into the water. He shoved back, sparking and sputtering hotly as he fought against her forward push, begging his foot not to slip in the mud. His soul gave a shiver of dismay as he watched two of the remaining humans move into position behind her, ready to help her shove him into the river. In a frantic effort to get her to let go, Grillby fanned himself hotter, watching as the heat from his flame lit the hilt of his sword into molten colors. The soldier winced at it, her fingers dangerously close to the burning metal. But with a look of determination and a steadfast glare, she refused to let go.

The two humans pressed forward with the first, creeping dread gripping Grillby’s soul as all three of them combined forced Grillby’s feet to slip back -

Then there was the press of a body against his back, and Grillby’s backwards slide through the gravel halted abruptly. He could feel wiry fingers clutching at his armor as they shoved forward, Alesia’s muttering voice making itself known above the rush of the angry river. The woman heaved as hard as she could, and with her help Grillby managed to take the barest of steps forward, the water pulling against his boots as he moved. He could feel the cold around his feet turning into a prickling and biting chill – the water was starting to soak through the leather.

A flicker of movement caught Grillby’s peripheral, and the elemental sputtered a gasp when he remembered the archer. The human was turned towards them now, that bow of theirs aimed towards Alesia, the only thing keeping Grillby from tumbling into the river. Brom was moving towards them, towards the humans keeping them pinned. Grillby waited just a breath, waited for Brom to distract the human at the end of the line. The force pushing against him lessened just slightly.

Grillby wrenched his entire body to the side, throwing his sword and the soldier’s locked with it to the side away from him. She went tumbling forward, the soldier behind her stumbling as well as suddenly the weight they were pushing against vanished. Alesia let out a surprised shout as she was pulled along with the elemental, her grip on his armor yanking her to the side and out of the way of the falling humans. Grillby sensed more then saw the arrow that had been aimed at her, the deadly shaft sliding harmlessly into the river. Grillby stumbled over, the force of his sudden lunge nearly throwing him to the ground. He caught himself just before he fell into the shallows, biting back a scream as his hands splashed into the water as he stopped his fall.

Then Alesia was helping haul him up, shoving him onto the river bank and away from the deadly river. The archer turned to them again, the shield bearer beside him lunging forward to ram into the elemental. Brigg’s hammer slammed down on them as he barreled out of the river, crushing both shield and bearer in a single heavy blow. The arrow the archer loosed buried itself in the dragon’s arm, and with a mighty roar Brigg tossed his magical hammer into the human, sending them slamming back into the sand. They didn’t rise - with a bitter spark Grillby hoped they never did.

Then with a condescending snort, the commander grabbed up Alesia, and Brom as he backed away from the three remaining soldiers. Brigg threw the two humans over his shoulders as if they were nothing, wading once again into the rushing water.

Grillby was left alone with the three remaining humans, standing on the beach without sword or shield, his hands slowly burning back to life as he willed his core hotter. Now though, the three remaining humans seemed wary to approach. They glanced amongst themselves warily, as if suddenly realizing there really were only three of them left standing. He could see in their eyes a question, if continuing was really worth it. If it was worth risking the rest of their lives just to kill one monster. They’d come so close several times, but each try had lost them one more comrade. Did they want to end the same?

Grillby decided to try something.

Grillby hoped against all hope that they hadn’t noticed his misstep earlier when he’d been unable to summon his lances. He prayed they didn’t realize he was as spent as he was. He didn’t want to fight anymore. He was so close to freedom, to safety. There was a shift in the elemental’s soul, and he sparked in a grimace. He could feel the change all the way through his core. It sent ripples of unnatural color through him, strange off-tones of purple and red intermixing with exhausted yellows. He felt his soul burn just a little brighter, white against the rest of the fire of his form as his defense dropped and his attack rose just slightly.

Grillby was sparing them.

It took the soldiers before him a moment to realize what the change meant, and when they did they frowned to each other in looks of confusion. One babbled something to the other, their voice soft and urgent. The other bit back, chastising and angry. As the two argued, the woman in front of them stared, eyes searching Grillby’s for some hint of deceit. Finally she barked something over her shoulder at the others. Suspicious and glaring, she backed away from the elemental, inching towards the hill and away from the river. The others followed her, silent and wary, until finally all three of them broke away, disappearing over the crest of the hill. Grillby coughed out a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He sunk to his knees in the gravel, exhausted and thankful.

He waited there patiently for Brigg to return for him, the dragon monster huffing tired breaths from his several trips across the rushing water. He offered Grillby a hand to help him stand.

“Crazy elemental,” he growled, smoke curling past his teeth, “You don’t just _spare_ humans.”

Grillby shrugged, “It worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re lucky they didn’t decide to dust you at your weakest moment,” came the bitter, growled reply. The elemental made a helpless motion with his hands, unable to really argue. He’d never spared anything before. He had no idea what would’ve happened if they’d decided to keep fighting.

Grillby flickered gratefully knowing he didn’t have to find out just yet.

Brigg scanned the hillside where the humans had retreated, small eyes glittering warily, expecting them to come barreling back over. When they didn’t, he huffed a smoking breath through his nostrils and snatched Grillby up in his gigantic claws. Grillby found himself slammed into the monster’s scaly shoulder, fear suddenly turning in his core as the dragon took large steps forward. Grillby gripped at the armor on Brigg’s back as the dragon waded into the river, shuddering as he watched the frothing water swirl higher and higher the further the monster walked. He blinked down at it, terror shuddering his soul, twisting it inside his chest and making him nauseous.

Grillby’s grip on Brigg’s armor got a little tighter.

He felt the monster tilt his head, casting a glance at the elemental strewn over his shoulder. Brigg gave a loud huff, the sulfurous smell of his smoke biting at the air, “You know, this is when I’d mock a lesser monster for being afraid of a little water.”

Grillby tried to see the humor in the statement, but for the moment all he could feel was fear. Fear that he could reach out his hand and touch if he were stupid enough to want to try it. The water swirled threateningly about every one of Brigg’s long strides, pulling against the monster, grabbing and splashing and trying it’s hardest to suck both he and the elemental downstream. The water was so churned up, Grillby couldn’t see the bottom. It was all nasty greens and browns, mud and debris.

Something struck Brigg in the side, heavy and dark in the water. The dragon let out a heavy grunt, and his foot slipped. For a brief second, Grillby was no longer looking at the water gurgling and churning angrily past them. For the shortest of seconds, Grillby was staring up at the edges of the treetops that hung over the river, and the sky glittering past them. The elemental blinked, realizing they were both falling.

Both Grillby and Brigg hit the ground breathless, thousands of wet pebbles stinging into the elemental’s back and shoulders. Grillby blinked, still staring at the sky. But the water was still growling in his ears, he could _hear it_. If Brigg had dropped them, why wasn’t he dead?

Fervent shouting snapped up Grillby’s attention. His gaze shot to the far bank, blinking dazedly past Brigg as the monster staggered to his feet. There stood Cris, the pendant on her chest blazing with bright green, her tiny hands outstretched towards the elemental. She was _holding the water back_. Brom and Alesia stood beside her, shouting either encouragement or telling her to stop, Grillby didn’t know. And he wasn’t given a chance to try and figure it out. Suddenly Brigg grabbed him up, and with a snarl and a heave tossed Grillby as far as he could throw him. Before Grillby could hit the water again, his soul was caught in the tight grip of blue, and with a hearty pull Gaster sent Grillby skidding into the safety of the riverbank.

Grillby had never been so happy to be tossed around in his _life_. The elemental staggered to his feet in time to watch Brigg take a step forward. Then Alesia was screaming something, her voice coated in dismay as Cris’ eyes rolled back and the little girl fainted.

The wave of water she’d been holding back promptly released, slamming into Brigg mid-step and tossing the monster into the water.

Grillby was already running down the river bank, some of Brigg’s frantic patrol dashing after him, “Gaster!”

“Got him!” the skeleton shrieked, his hand reaching forward and his blue magic arcing with it. Brigg’s tumbling form came to an abrupt halt in the water, and he clawed and scrambled to regain his footing against the force of the pressing river. Gaster groaned from the effort of holding him back against the push, his grip on the dragon slipping by the second.

“Hurry!”

Grillby raced down the riverbank, feet sliding against the pebbles with every other step. His gaze was already rooted on the convoluted rescue plan he’d managed to scrap together in his hurry - a tree that had fallen heavy across the water. Most of its branches had been torn away in the current, leaving only half of a rotting trunk that stretched towards the middle of the river. It shook and rocked against the current, but it was steady enough - Grillby _hoped_ it was steady enough anyway. The elemental slid to a halt before it, took a step towards the creaking wood and paused.

_The water_.

What was he _thinking?!_ He couldn’t rescue Brigg from a river! The monster was twice his size! He’d drag him in for sure! He’d -

Gaster screamed. Grillby’s whole core shuddered from the fear and the suddenness of it. An arc of blue magic, jagged like breaking glass, crackled through the air between the skeleton and where he’d caught Brigg in the river. It was as if the magic were collapsing, wavering and unsteady as something in it started breaking. And then with a crack like thunder it shattered back towards Gaster, sending the skeleton sprawling across the river bank. The current ripped into Brigg and sent him tumbling once again.

Grillby heaved himself onto the pitching log and ran, stumbling and praying nothing crashed into the log and threw him off-balance. He dropped onto his hands and knees at the end of it, reaching his hands out towards Brigg as the monster snarled and flailed as the water dragged him past.

Grillby grabbed one of Brigg’s flailing arms as it passed, hands clenching against dampened and slick scales. He winced against the sting of the cold and wet around his fingers. He held on as strong arms encircled his waist, one of the monsters in Brigg’s patrol having made his way across the log as well. The two of them heaved, pulling back against the weight of the water and Brigg as he was yanked along with it. Two more monsters joined the chain, all of them pulling and snarling, slowly dragging the hulking monster out of the water and onto the relative safety of the log.

Grillby didn’t let go until Brigg had managed to clamor his way onto the log, a sigh of relief sparking its way out of his shivering form. He let the monsters behind him lead him to the safety of the bank. It wasn’t until he stepped unsteadily against the gravel that Grillby realized he was shaking, sparks shivering off of him as his soul jittered madly in his chest. His hands _hurt_ , a cold and sore ache that he hadn’t even noticed coursing through them. He looked down and realized his palms and fingers had been cooled to the core where he’d grabbed Brigg, the strange cold stone cracking painfully as he flexed his shaking hands.

Half numb from the shock of being alive, from somehow managing to come away from the river with only so much HP out of place, Grillby stumbled his way back towards Gaster. The skeleton had gotten back to his feet now, tottering exhaustedly from the blue he’d used and the sting of the backlash when his hold had given out. The two stumbled into each other, Gaster grinning tiredly and Grillby still sputtering those shivering sparks.

“You did it,” Grillby said with a shuddering laugh.

“ _I_ did it?” Gaster laughed back, “ _You_ did it.”

“You got help.”

“You _crossed_ a _river_.”

Grillby shook his head, “ _I_ didn’t cross _anything_. Brigg-”

The dragon monster stalked past the two babbling monsters, shaking water from his rumpled scales as he went. He lumbered towards Alesia and Brom where they cradled Cris, Eva and Col huddling worriedly at their sides. When they saw Brigg coming, the little family clumped closer together, Alesia spreading her arms to hug the children closer to her and Brom getting to his feet protectively. Grillby and Gaster exchanged a glance, their giddy conversation abruptly fizzling out. The two darted towards the family, stepping between them and the towering monster just as Brigg stopped before them.

“The child,” the dragon huffed down at them, smoke curling past his snarling teeth, “Is a magic user.”

“Nothing but illusion and shield magic,” Gaster answered quickly, hands signing quick and nervous as he spoke, “She’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“You mean to tell me,” Brigg spoke soft and slow, as if he were reasoning with a scared child, “That a human strong enough to hold back a river is nothing to be afraid of?”

Grillby gave a nervous flicker. No no _no_ this wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Did he even have the strength left in him to defend these humans if Brigg decided to do something rash? He didn’t think he did. And from the way Gaster’s hands kept signing the same quiet sentence over and over, it was apparent he felt the same.

A tense silence passed between the three of them, where Brigg glared and Gaster and Grillby struggled to meet the stare in earnest. Finally Brigg continued with a growl.

“Any human magic user should be captured or killed. They’re too dangerous to let escape,” he said slowly, yellow eyes glittering darkly. Then, they flickered with something, like the barest of smirks just before secret is told. To both the smaller monster’s surprise, Brigg moved his lumbering form past them, making his way wearily towards the tree line.

“It’s a shame her magic is so strong,” he continued with a huff, “I’ve never seen illusion magic that can make a whole pack of humans just disappear like that.”

One of Brigg’s patrol, a demon-like creature with sharp eyes, shrugged, “Aye, we searched for hours for those vermin.”

With a chuckle another of the patrol joined in, “I don’t even think they were human.”

The remainder of the patrol chipped in as well, embellishing the little story with quips about powerful forest spirits, specters and magic. One remarked on how brave Brigg and Grillby were for taking on an army of over fifty humans on the far bank all by themselves. Gaster heaved a sigh of relief, nearly collapsing into Grillby as he did so.

“Thank heavens,” he murmured quietly before turning to walk the humans through where they should go next. Brom nodded intently, smiling with relief as he took in the news that the monsters wouldn’t be taking Cris away.

Something nudged into Grillby’s leg, and the elemental looked down to see Col. The boy was offering Grilby’s shield back to him, proudly shoving it towards the elemental and grinning. He said something in that strange excited human speech, and Grillby gave a flustered spark.

“He said he knew you’d save them,” Gaster translated, smiling, “He said that’s what you Undying do, you save people.”

Grillby frowned at the motion Gaster made with his hands on ‘undying’. It was the same sign he’d seen Gaster make when they’d first met the humans, the one he hadn’t recognized. Grillby flickered a smile, reaching down to ruffle the kid’s hair.

“Well Col must be an Undying too then,” the elemental said with a quiet chuckle, “Since he saved me.”

The boy beamed up at Grillby as Gaster translated, his excited eyes burning with excitement and pride. He shoved the shield towards Grillby again, and the elemental gently pushed it back towards Col, letting it rest heavy in the kid’s arms. Col looked down at the shield for a moment, realization dawning on him in a growing look of amazement.

“Help keep them safe,” Grillby said, and as Gaster translated Col nodded vigorously. The boy assumed a grand look of seriousness, flashing Grillby some sort of human salute with his free arm coming up to cross his chest as he bowed.

Grillby paused to look down at Cris, the little girl still asleep in Alesia’s arms. He wanted to say something to her, somehow express how grateful he was that she’d saved him. But she wouldn’t be awake for some time after all the magic she’d spent, and even if she were he doubted she’d understand just how grateful he was. It was a feeling in his soul, something he couldn’t rightly put into words. Not really knowing what else to do, Grillby bowed to Alesia and little Cris in her arms. He murmured one last heavy ‘thank you’ to them before moving to follow Brig, Gaster in tow. The family disappeared from sight as soon as the group of monsters entered the tree line. Grillby just caught one last glance of Eva waving enthusiastically at them before they vanished from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cheese this was a long chapter. Ugh.
> 
> \- correction, this is the longest chapter in the story so far, I'm pretty sure -
> 
> Had some cool scenes in it I was excited to write, but in the end I'm scared they didn't come out as good as I wanted them too. Hmm...
> 
> Also! I am once again back home! Back in flat, boring midwest and away from the beauty that is Colorado. But as much as I complain about it, I'm so so glad to be home. I missed home.


	33. Scattered Hills Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we get to ease some anxiety

A weight lifted off of Grillby's soul when at last they stumbled their way into camp. Safety. _Home._ At least for now. If he weren't so exhausted, he might've cried in relief at the sight of it, and then cried again when he realized how shambled and pathetic it was. The camp was _small_ , terrifyingly so. It was hard to tell through the trees that it huddled so desperately close to, but from what Grillby saw, they must have lost half their numbers or more. Hundreds of monsters reduced to dust within a week, and all of it the result of a single battle.

"Is this all that's made it back?" Gaster asked, his voice a soft gasp of dismay.

Brigg rumbled a low growl, a sound so faint that Grillby felt it in the air more than he actually heard it, like some distant thunder. The elemental's soul gave a nervous twist.

"Aye, it's all we have left," the dragon frowned, exhaustion overtaking his proud features and making him seem aged, "They scattered us like dust in the breeze and have been hunting us down ever since. For now the humans fear these woods too much to search for us here, but it won't keep them out for long."

"And… what about Amathea?" Grillby asked with an anxious flicker.

"She hasn't left the healing tent since we got her here," Brigg said cooly, scowling down at the arrow still poking out of his arm.

Grillby and Gaster exchanged terrified glances, the elemental's fire pitching into pale hues while Gaster signed worriedly, too fast to read. Brigg's clawed hands came down on their shoulders then, stopping them just before they could dash off. Grillby flashed the dragon a mighty glare.

" _Walk_ ," Brigg growled bitterly at them, cutting off any protest before it could be made, "You don't even know where the tent is, and you don't have the energy to run in circles looking for it."

With that the commander shoved past them, grumbling as he went, "Amathea's too damn stubborn to be dusted anytime soon anyway."

Grillby and Gaster reluctantly followed behind Brigg as the monster led the way through the camp. Small fires were lit here and there amongst the tents, monsters huddled around them for warmth and the comfort of being close to friends and comrades. Grillby noticed very few of them seemed to be completely whole. Several of the monsters looked like they hadn't slept, or hadn't had time to properly heal themselves since they'd come into camp. Others looked broken in spirit, staring vacantly into fires or making half-hearted conversation. The air around them was cold and dull, their expressions numb.

It had been a while since Grillby had seen an army so devastated.

But he did notice a spark returning to them when they saw the elemental pass, a light of hope springing to life. He could almost hear them whispering. The elemental had survived. The strongest monster had returned. A self-conscious weight draped itself around his soul. If only they knew how weak he'd become since the storm and the battle. If only they knew how close he'd been to being nothing but dust. Grillby walked a little closer to Gaster and Brigg.

At last Brigg stopped them in front of a few tents that had been pitched and woven together, a shoddy attempt at making something large and stable enough for a bulk of wounded. The dragon held the canvas aside for them to come in, ducking carefully after them so he didn't pull down some part of the tent when he moved. He had to keep his his head bowed to make sure he didn't brush against the top of the tent. After a moment the dragon cleared his throat and motioned to the side.

"Over there."

Grillby saw her almost immediately, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She was sitting up in a cot, frowning forlornly at the ground as a nurse worked on changing a network of bandages that had been bound around the fish monster's chest and torso. Some bandages laced her arm as well, which she held out expectantly for when the nurse moved on to change those bandages next. She must have seen them enter because her gaze panned up to glance across them, the numb forlorn of her expression shattering when she recognized them.

Then she was on her feet and dashing towards them - much to the nurse's dismay. Grillby rushed to meet her as well, Gaster vaulting past him in his excitement. Gaster made it to her first, and Amathea gave a hearty laugh as she and the skeleton embraced. Then she was reaching her arm out to Grillby, and the elemental wrapped his arms around her and Gaster, flickering bright colors of relief. His breath caught in his chest and he felt a tightness growing in his throat. _Augh_ , this wasn't the time to cry. Everyone was safe, everyone was together. He had _no reason to cry_. In spite of himself, the elemental found himself wiping away a molten tear before it could splash down to burn Amathea's shoulder.

"Every god alive _damn you two_ for making me worry," Amathea grinned, her voice thick with emotion as she pulled away from them, "Gave me a heart attack, didn't you? You decide to do some sightseeing while you were away?"

"It was an adventure and a half Ammy, and I hope we never do it again," Gaster chuckled, an arm still wrapped around her shoulder as he led her back to the disgruntled nurse, "But what in the _world_ happened to you?"

"Ach, what _didn't_ happen to me?" Amathea chuckled, easing herself back onto the cot she'd been sitting on. Grillby noticed with a frown that one of the bandages that had been changed had begun bleeding again, blood and the dark colors of leaking magic seeping in where the bandage wrapped around her side. With an angry huff, the nurse got back to his previous work.

Amathea looked both Gaster and Grillby up and down, her eyes searching them as if she'd forgotten what they'd looked like. Her face was set in a soft, comforted expression, her smile was tired.

"I was starting to wonder if I hadn't lost you two," she murmured, her smile looking a bit more like a grimace. Amathea let out a heavy sigh, her grin slipping back across her features as she looked past Gaster and Grillby to Brigg standing just behind them. Grillby blinked up at the monster - he'd forgotten he was still there.

"You brought them back for me after all, did-ya beastie?" Amathea grinned. Brigg ruffled his wings on his back and crossed his arms - wincing just a bit at the arrow he still hadn't removed. He tilted his head away from her, muttering with a puff of smoke, "You say that as if you doubted me."

Amathea barked a laugh, "I suppose I shouldn't have, should I?"

Grillby gave a flicker of surprise, "You sent Brigg out to find us?"

Amathea ushered to her bandaged torso - earning a scowl from the nurse who had been about to mess with the bandages on her arm, "Well as much as I wanted to do it myself, I was a bit laid up. We're short on doctors and food, those of us who can go without green magic have been. And let me tell you, healing on your own takes a lifetime and a half."

"You wouldn't need healing if you weren't such a daft wench to begin with," Brigg grumbled, another puff of smoke curling past his teeth as he spoke. Grillby gave an angry spark, but before he could say anything, Amathea was laughing and cutting him off.

"And that's why they named me Amathea the _Brave_ , not Amathea the _Wise_ ," the commander chided, "Besides, if this daft wench hadn't stepped in you'd be a pile of dust. And then where would we be, beastie?"

Brigg rumbled at this, a growl sounding deep in his chest. It took a moment for Grillby to realize he was… _laughing_. It was a rolling chuckle that purred like far-away thunder. It sent a shiver through Brigg's wings and lit a spark in his eyes.

"You'd be short at least one elemental who's more daft than you are," Brigg huffed out a smoking breath as he turned to lumber off, "As fate would have it, there's a little less dust in this world then there could have been."

Grillby rubbed his arm self-consciously, flickering a frown in Gaster's direction, "He's not wrong."

Gaster sighed back, rubbing the side of his skull tiredly, "Honestly Ammy… I didn't think we'd make it back at all."

All semblance of a smile wiped itself off Amathea's face. She blinked back and forth between Gaster and Grillby, searching them again as if she'd lost them.

Finally she said, "Tell me everything."

And they did. Gaster started, describing in quiet words their run from the battlefield, how he'd almost lost Grillby on the first night under the tree. His voice shook briefly when he talked about trying to heal him, apologizing briefly to the elemental for being unable to. He talked about waking up the next morning to soldiers dragging him out, about how scared he'd been, how sure he was that he was going to die. About how stupid it was that humans could use wards, and how Grillby had rescued him. When Gaster lapsed into silence, hands still signing in hidden words of fear and regret, Grillby continued on. He told Amathea about their walk, about the humans that chased them, about the scout who'd found them. He laughed quietly when he remembered how bewildered he'd been when Gaster had just _vanished_ , and then how overwhelmed he'd felt when the family they'd found had offered them shelter.

Then both he and Gaster were talking, smiling at the family, at how brave and kind they'd been. How neither of them had expected it. Humans _helping_ monsters. And then Grillby was boasting about Brom and Col, how they'd stood beside him on the beach when he was sure he was done for. How a _child_ had been selfless enough to try and save him. He grinned when he spoke about Alesia, who'd murmured comforting words to her children as they were dragged to safety not knowing if she would make it across with them, that tenacious woman who'd kept him out of the river. Gaster laughed and applauded Grillby on how he'd fought, how he'd protected the family while Gaster himself had run to get help. He told Amathea about little Cris who'd saved them, and how they'd all worked together to drag Brigg out of the river.

Amathea sat quietly as they recounted their tale, her ear frills occasionally giving angry twitches when she heard every time they'd come so close to death. When they finished they blinked at each other in thoughtful silence.

Finally Amathea sighed, "Well boys, I don't know if you have some god-thing looking out for you, or if you've been completely forsaken. You had a run with good and bad luck, didn't you?"

Grillby shrugged, "At least the good luck won out in the end."

"Aye, at least," Amathea smirked.

"What about you Ammy?" Gaster asked, frowning slightly in concern, "You look like you went through hell and back."

Amathea rolled her eyes at this, "Oh please. It's just a flesh wound."

Then her mouth split in a wide grin, eyes sparkling with the familiar zeal that Grillby had been missing, "But it'll make some _grand_ scars to brag over, let me tell you! Got these saving Brigg's sorry tail, if you can believe it!"

"You're joking," Gaster chuckled.

Amathea beamed all the brighter, "I'm a thousand things, Gaster, but a liar isn't one of 'em! It wasn't too long after you left that the humans broke through the eastern line. Would've surrounded us if we had called a retreat any later. And that big mister beastie got himself caught between some halberdiers and some archers while he was getting his unit moving. That's when I swooped in, all spears and screaming magic."

The commander gave a wistful sort of sigh that turned tired as her gaze dropped to the bandages on her arm, which was now cradled in her lap, "I'll be honest with you lads, I don't even remember being hit. One minute I was throwing spears through some archers, and the next I was on the ground with a bloody halberd in my face. Didn't even hurt really - I was damn confused when my magic stopped listening to me and I stopped being able to see straight. Next thing I know I'm waking up here, asking every monster around me if my boys had made it home yet."

Amathea let out a quiet chuckle, ear frills dipping down dismally, "Of course… no one knew who I was talking about. Except Brigg. He probably listened to me whining for a day and a half before he said 'I'll find them' and left me here to my own devices. And since then I've been waiting… I guess he must really think he owes me something if he put his own life out there to drag you back."

"Well it's good to be back," Gaster smiled, "And now that I _am_ back, I can get you healed up."

"Oh no you're _not_ ," Amathea snapped instantly, and Grillby chuckled at the motherly bite in her voice, "You get yourself some food and rest. Don't even _think_ about touching me until you've had some of that at least."

"Fine _fine_ ," Gaster grinned, "But so help me, I'm healing you in the morning! Come on, firefly."

Grillby waved a quick goodbye to Amathea before letting himself be led from the tent. As he stepped away he just barely caught her murmur in a quiet voice after them.

"Just… don't be gone too long this time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of you who kept ending comments with "but I hope Amathea's alright!"  
> Does this ease your anxiety a little bit? :'D ahaha You have no idea how hard it was not to just add a comment somewhere that she was fine. No idea. How hard. Hmm... and I made it through an entire slew of battle/fight scenes without killing anyone (important). What am I doing with my life?
> 
> Anyway! It's really really weird posting a chapter that's less than 3000 words, and even weirder when I remind myself this chapter length was normal at the beginning of the story. Yeesh.
> 
> We've actually now reached the limit of the scripted scenes I have between now and the next major plot point. Which means I have some figuring to do over the weekend before the next chapter comes out. I mean, I have a few vague scenes that can/probably need to happen before the next plot point, so I have a starting point on where to go next. I just don't have it all planned out in my head yet. I'm a hardcore planner when it comes to stories. Something I'm slowly learning about myself. It's not so much that I outline - for this story I only started with a rough timeline and basic character/world building guidelines as an outline. But I extensively plan every scene that takes place in my head before it hits the paper. And it bothers me that these upcoming scenes won't have the benefit of that fore-planning.
> 
> Also it's totally still Thursday in Colorado I'm not late with this chapter shhhh nobody asked you.


	34. One of these things is not like the others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a little problem with... weakness...

Grillby didn't realize how exhausted the day had made him until he and Gaster were settling in for the night. It had taken them a bit to figure out some kind of shelter for the night - neither of them had taken a tent with them when the battling had started, and with the army scattered as it was there were no supply wagons to help fill in the missing pieces. In the end they managed to grab some spare canvas and rope from a kind monster by one of the campfires, and after some fiddling managed to tie it up to a tree like some kind of awning.

Gaster remarked jokingly that he was glad his best friend was made of fire - a shelter as simple as this couldn't keep the autumn chill away like a proper tent could.

Food was a little easier to get ahold of. It was nothing but hard bread and dried meat, meager and basic. But it was by far better than nothing. Grillby was getting used to the uncomfortable feeling of empty magic slowly being filled. They visited Amathea one last time before calling it a night, telling her they'd be back first thing in the morning - and Gaster reminding her once again he was going to get her healed up. They were both surprised to see Brigg walk in just as they left, the commander nodded to them as they passed. Grillby watched him make his way over to Amathea just before they exited the tent.

Well it was… good to see them... getting along…?

The elemental was grateful for the rest when they finally settled in for the night. He curled up against the tree they'd rigged their canvas to, uncomfortable and exhausted but glad for the feeling of safety. Yes safety. _Finally_. Surrounded by monsters with a cool night and not a cloud in the sky, something over his head to keep him dry _just in case_ , and Gaster and Amathea both healing and seconds away if he needed them. Finally. _Finally_. He was safe. Grillby fell asleep with Gaster sprawled across the ground beside him, the skeleton for once falling asleep before Grillby did.

When Grillby awoke he didn't wake in the morning like he normally did. He didn't even stir when Gaster eventually yawned and stretched and with those silent footsteps hurried off to go see Amathea. Grillby awoke with a sluggish stoking of his flame, building from exhausted reds to more healthy and vibrant oranges. The sun was high overhead when he finally opened his eyes to see it, his soul humming contentedly in his chest for the first time in what felt like a very long time. He was so taken aback by the feeling that for several minutes he just lay on his back, blinking at the dappled sunlight as it flickered against the top of the sagging canvas above his head. He didn't want to move. He wanted to stare at those shifting spots of molten sunlight and pretend he was back at the camp he'd been summoned in.

Finally with a sigh Grillby pulled himself to his feet, stretching his stiff limbs and crackling warmly. And then with as much purpose as he could muster into his slowly waking soul, Grillby made his way across the camp to the healing tent - occasionally stealing up abandoned or dying fires as he walked. He earned himself a few strange stares from the monsters around him, but it left him feeling revived and full. _Finally_ he was feeling complete again. Good. He never wanted to feel so empty and weak ever again.

Amathea beamed at him when he entered the tent, and he sparked in bright colors back at her. Gaster was fiddling with her soul, too intent on his work to notice Grillby as the elemental entered. He had a nurse at his side, gently weaving her soul-stuff into tiny cracks in Amathea's soul that Grillby could hardly see.

"It's about time you got up, loiter-sack," Amathea barked enthusiastically, "I was starting to wonder if you were going to sleep the whole day away."

"I very nearly did," Grillby laughed with a soft crackle, "But I feel great now. I can almost forget the rainstorm ever happened."

A bit of nervousness crept into his voice and the elemental cast a wary glance at the ceiling of the tent - still dappled with spattered sunlight, " _Almost_."

Amathea flashed him a pitiful smile, a knowing one, "Don't worry about it too much lad. There are things that take longer to heal than wounds, and you're no lesser monster for them."

Gaster smirked, " _Wow_ you two are sentimental today."

With a flourish of his hands he finished his work on Amathea's soul, instructing the nurse who'd helped him to get some rest. Then he turned expectantly to Grillby, waving for the elemental to sit down on the cot beside Amathea.

"Alright firefly, your turn."

" _Me?_ " Grillby chuckled with an incredulous spark, "But I feel fine - for once."

"Oh hush," Gaster huffed, "There's a difference between feeling fine and actually being _healed_. Especially with the state you were in. Now come on."

He waved his hand in a familiar motion, and Grillby rolled his eyes as best he could, anticipating the grip of blue as Gaster nudged him forward -

Nothing happened.

Gaster blinked up at Grillby confusedly, then down at his hand, then back up at the elemental again.

"... something wrong?" Amathea asked, watching Gaster with concern. The skeleton signed a few confused sentence fragments, trying to align his thoughts.

"You okay Gaster?" Grillby asked, flickering worriedly.

"My blue didn't work," the skeleton muttered, his gaze dropping back to his hands again, " _Why didn't it work?_ "

"You just got back from a nightmare, lad," Amathea said gently, "You're probably too tired to use that kind of magic."

"But… I got a good night's sleep. I've eaten, I've had water," Gaster looked between his friends, the perplexed frown on his face starting to turn to panic, "There's absolutely no reason for it not to work! It… it was just working yesterday! It shouldn't -"

Suddenly all expression wiped itself off of Gaster's face, his gaze slipping off into the distance, "I broke something."

"Gaster you can't _break_ magic!" Amathea snorted, "It's _magic_ for heaven's sakes! Now calm down."

"No, no I broke something," the skeleton's expression refocused on Grillby, a scowl gritting his teeth, "When I dropped Brigg. That _hurt_ , a _lot_. I thought I was just overexerting myself, but it felt like something _snapped_. Something _did_ snap."

"Gaster if your magic broke, that means something in your soul is broken," Grillby said quietly, worry turning his fire in sickly greens, "You'd be dust."

Gaster flailed his arms in a grand, exasperated sign, "No I _wouldn't_. It makes _sense!_ I cracked up my soul using too much magic like a moron - I must've cracked something important. And while I was trying to grab Brigg it just shattered the rest of the way. Can I even fix that? Oh _hell!_ "

The skeleton gave another exasperated set of signs, berating himself for his stupidity before motioning once again for Grillby to down, "And the same thing is going to happen to _you_ if you still have cracks in your soul. So get over here."

Still flickering in quiet apprehension, Grillby did as he was told, sitting gently beside Amathea on her cot. Gaster got to work checking over the elemental's soul, grumbling bitterly under his breath as he did so. His quiet ramblings trailed off into silent sternness as he flipped Grillby's molten soul around in his hands. The elemental shivered.

There were cracks. They were thin and mending, refracting mixed hues of red and purple through its surface like fiery spider webs. But what unsettled Grillby the most about it was the look on Gaster's face as he examined it. The skeleton looked _relieved_. The glint in his eye sockets hinted at the expectation for much worse, worse that he'd seen before. Finally appeased, Gaster let the soul sink back into it's place in Grillby's chest.

"It's all just on the surface," Gaster said, sighing, "You'll be fine."

"How much worse was it?" Grillby murmured, morbid curiosity getting the better of him. Amathea raised her eyebrows, echoing the question silently. Gaster shrugged.

"I mean… _bad_ ," the skeleton said uncomfortably, "Like I said, I didn't think you were going to make it through the night."

Gaster rubbed his arm distractedly, "Next time we heal a soul that looks like it, I'll point it out to you… if you really want to know."

Gaster hissed out one last sigh through his teeth before standing up, "Now uh… I'm going to go see if I can fix whatever I busted."

Without another word, Gaster left, a troubled frown cringing across his teeth. Amathea and Grillby exchanged dismal glances, not really knowing what else they could do. Of the two of them, it was Amathea who got to her feet first.

"Aye well… since I'm fixed up now I suppose I should help Brigg with damage control," Amathea hummed, "Grillby, you feeling well enough to go on patrol? They'll need help finding food and stragglers. And it'll boost morale to see some powerful monsters walking about."

The elemental nodded quietly.

"And wear some armor," Amathea added, smiling slightly at the afterthought, "It'll make you look more impressive. Make some of the smaller beasties wandering around here feel safe."

"Yes ma'am," Grillby flickered a smirk.

"That's it lad, lighten up," the commander said hearteningly, giving Grillby a reassuring pat on the shoulder, "And if you catch something good enough, maybe you can convince us to have a little bonfire."

Amathea strode off towards the exit to the tent, ear frills twitching as she said, "Heaven knows we need some cheer to clear the dust from the air."

* * *

Grillby spent the day volunteering for every patrol he could find, anything that would pass the time and prove useful to the other monsters in camp. Meanwhile Gaster busied himself in the healing tents, grabbing random nurses as volunteers to help him heal the hurting inside while Amathea took her seat once again with the other commanders. It was just her, Brigg and two others that Grillby had never met before, and they were inseparable as they discussed what they were supposed to do next. Now that monsters were being healed, they could get mobile again. The problem now was where they could go.

Word had already gotten back to the capital about their loss, and it was bitter medicine to swallow when word returned that their battle wasn't the only massive defeat to have been suffered by the monsters as of late. Humans were crawling like ants across the hills, numerous and determined, beating the monsters ever further south towards the mountains. And according to Amathea, they were armed to the teeth with mages. She told Grillby and Gaster that night, face grim and eyes distant, that the entire Western front had been destroyed, wiped out by a group of powerful mages who made a force no monster could stop. The entire army had been reduced to dust, the countryside shattered with the marks of extermination and war.*

The monsters were losing. _Badly_.

Gaster asked in a hushed voice if Amathea had heard anything from her sister. The commander didn't answer. They turned in for the night then, restless and worried. Grillby made himself comfortable between Amathea and Gaster, offering them his warmth as the evening chilled. It took him awhile to actually fall asleep.

When he slept that night, Grillby dreamed of rain and rivers. He dreamed of Gaster and Brigg trying to drag him to safety before both of them finally dropped him, and he was consumed by the burning cold of water everywhere, drowning him, whisking his dust away in an angry current that devoured everything.

Grillby awoke with a gasp, soul shuddering in his chest like a frantic heartbeat, his flames pitched in panicky and feverish hues. Grillby's whole body shook. He sat up slowly, breathing in deep breaths, hurriedly hushing his churning flame into something cooler and less panicked. He didn't move until he'd managed to calm himself back into yellows and oranges - though he couldn't stop his shuddering no matter how hard he tried.

 _Just a dream,_ he thought to himself as he shivered, hugging himself as if it could bring some comfort, _you have nothing to be afraid of. You're not hurt. You're okay._

When Grillby finally managed to compose himself, he realized his light wasn't the only kind lighting the darkness around him. Laying on his back outside the tent, isolated from Grillby and Amathea, was Gaster. The skeleton's soul was hovering between his hands, highlighting Gaster's delicate finger bones with hues of shifting purple. As Grillby watched, Gaster started unraveling pieces of his soul, delicately pulling long cords of the magical soul-stuff apart and shifting through them, making sense of something Grillby couldn't see. He would pull one cord away and tear it apart - Grillby watched the skeleton flinch as he did - only to turn around and weave that broken cord together with another. It was mesmerizing to watch, and for a while Grillby just quietly observed, flickering in muted blues and purples of absent wonder, waiting for the changing colors to lull him back to sleep.

When they didn't, the elemental shuffled to his feet and then made his way over to his friend. Gaster barely glanced up as Grillby sat beside him.

"You're awake," he observed coolly, getting back to whatever work he was doing on his soul. Grillby nodded, quietly watching once again as Gaster unraveled a pair of cords only to weave them together somewhere else again. Now that Grillby was up close, he noticed the strange network of soul-stuff looked almost like a spider's web, or maybe several webs hung close together. Every cord connected to another, shining purple yet somehow still opalescent, several shifting threads of color glossing across the cords of magic that Gaster wove.

"Did you find out what was wrong?" Grillby asked after a long pause, and Gaster scowled. He pushed a few of the cords around, rearranging his pulled-apart soul back into some semblance of form again - or at least a form Grillby could recognize. The magic was molten, congealing back into its regular shape, shimmering lightly purple. And then suddenly it was solid, like glass, and latticed with imperceptible cracks. Grillby marveled at it, how it worked, how it could exist that way.

Gaster drew a finger bone delicately across the glass-like surface, tracing the deepest crack in the soul and giving the slightest of shivers as he did, "That's what's wrong."

Grillby blinked at the unassuming crack. It was small, smaller than most that Grillby had seen when he'd helped Gaster heal. Gaster noticed the elemental's confusion.

"It used to be a lot deeper," the skeleton explained, his voice low and disgruntled, "But we've been healing a lot over the past few days, so it's started to heal itself back up again."

Gaster moved his hands, and in a flurry of motion his soul pulled itself apart, splaying in a disheveled mess of cords and colors. He traced one of them, and leaning closely Grillby could _just see_ cracks spiraling along the cord until it ended abruptly in ashen colors of greys and blacks, as if the end had been burned out.

"Can you fix it?" Grillby mused, flickering worriedly. Gaster shrugged, glaring forlornly at the broken piece he held between his fingers.

"Yes...?" he finally answered, letting out a long sigh, "If I fiddle with it long enough. I remember how I wove it the first time, so that helps."

Gaster let out another heavy sigh, blinking miserably at the sky high above them, "This just makes me _so angry_. I'm _useless_ without blue."

Grillby gave a quiet laugh, "You're far from useless Gaster."

" _Yes I am_ ," the skeleton spat, his voice heavy and bitter, and Grillby's flame flickered lower in dismay, "I'm not like you Grillby. I'm _weak_. I was _born weak_. And I will _always_ be weak. I'm a pathetic mess when I fight anything. Blue magic is the only thing that's kept me alive. I would be dust a thousand times over without it. It's my strongest, most reliable magic. I spent _over a year_ writing it into my soul and teaching myself how to use it the first time. And now it's gone."

Grillby watched his friend in troubled silence for a moment before saying quietly, "Gaster, you're not weak."

Gaster answered him with a harsh laugh, "I'm a skeleton, Grillby. I have no choice in the matter."

"But you do," Grillby flickered in concern, "And you _are_ strong. You've healed hundreds, you've saved my life more than anyone else I've ever met. You killed an unkillable human. You taught yourself magic nobody else knows how to use - think of those bone monsters you make for heaven's sakes!"

"Oh right," Gaster scowled, "You mean the healing I can't do on my own, that I _have_ to have help with? Or the human that would've dusted me if Amathea hadn't intervened? The blasters that can't even break a human ward?"

Grillby blinked at his friend, dismay coloring him in cool and dull reds.

"Oh I know! How about me breaking up my own soul because I _couldn't heal you right?!_ " Gaster continued, hands jerking with every angry sign, "Or the blue magic that was too weak to carry anyone across that stupid river? Or the bone attacks that are so measly and small, it takes ten attacks just to kill a single human?! And then there's you and Amathea, striding forward in all your glory, taking out whole battalions on your own."

Grillby felt like his soul was sinking in his chest, dismay and dread turning his stomach in knots, "I didn't-"

"You're a _real monster_ , Grillby," Gaster interrupted, scowling, "You don't feel pain, you don't take damage, it takes you _ages_ to get tired. If you choose not to, you can go without food or sleep until your magic runs out. Your only weakness is water, for heaven's sakes! It's _not fair._ You can protect people!"

Finally Gaster seemed to be running out of steam. He heaved out a defeated sigh, the rapid and angry motions of his hands finally starting to still, "I can barely protect myself."

Silence ate up the world around them, silence where Grillby sat worriedly and Gaster begrudgingly got back to work on his soul, tying ends together and untying others. Grillby didn't realize it, but he'd started shaking again. Just subtly, sparks flittering about him in shivering paths before fizzling out again. He… didn't know what to say. But there was one thing that Gaster had said that stuck with the elemental, and after several minutes of pensively watching with knots twisting in his stomach, Grillby finally asked.

"The crack… that broke your blue magic," he said, voice soft and as neutral sounding as he could manage, "That's my fault, isn't it?"

Gaster's hands stopped moving. His angry expression twitched and broke, a rueful grimace sliding across his teeth like a wince.

"You were dying," Gaster finally said after a pause, looking distractedly at his unraveled soul, "I had to do something."

"... is there anything I can do to help you fix it?"

Gaster sighed, finally dropping his hands away and letting his soul sink back to where it should be, "No, Grillby, there's nothing you can do."

A pause passed between them. Grillby did his best not to let the melancholy feeling twisting in his soul turn his fire different colors. The last thing he needed to do was make Gaster feel guilty, especially now that Grillby _knew_ this was his fault. With a smoking huff, the elemental pulled himself to his feet.

"Firefly, you should go back to sleep," Gaster frowned, sitting up to watch the elemental as he began to walk away, "Where are you even going?"

Grillby shrugged, "I'm gonna see if someone on night watch needs the sleep more than I do."

He paused, frowning one last time in Gaster's direction, "Uhm… good luck fixing your magic."

"... thanks," Gaster hummed, confused and a little worried as he signed, "Don't let any humans sneak up on you."

Grillby offered a half-hearted chuckle before moving away again, his soul feeling heavy in his chest. Heaven's alive. What was he supposed to do now?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * this paragraph is actually a reference! The fanfiction referenced here (for anyone who'd like to check it out themselves) is "What Friends Are For" by IchikoWindGryphon on AO3 (or Ichiwashername-oh) on Tumblr. It specifically references a scene in Chapter 5 where Grillby/Gaster in that story are discussing the Western front being exterminated. The fic itself is a Gasterblaster AU fic about Papyrus/Sans, and a delve into Gaster's motives in creating them. It's pretty cool!
> 
> I had actually told myself I wouldn't read any wartime fics in this fandom until mine was done, since I didn't want to sponge up ideas from other people by accident. But this one took me by surprise! Ahaha I didn't realize flashbacks were going to be a thing. Even still, I quite enjoyed the read! It's unfinished, but still being updated, and the author is a pretty good one!
> 
> *ahem*
> 
> I would also like to apologize for not posting on Monday this week. I won't go into detail, but I was in a pretty dark place. Still am, though not as bad. The last few weeks at work have been pretty stressful, and I've been feeling kind of dark lately. I'm working through it. I think.
> 
> It didn't help that there was so much discord in this chapter though :')


	35. Has anyone ever give you the LOVE talk, Grillby?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn a few things about Amathea and her views on LV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week has a fanart feature! Both works are by the amazing Garessta on Deviantart and you should totally throw them some love!
> 
> The first one is still a [work in progress but you have to see the detail on this thing!](http://garessta.deviantart.com/art/WIP-Dream-Team-625382408)
> 
> The second one is an adorable pixel/sprite set about [how Grillby/Gaster/Amathea would work if they were actually in an RPG? And the amount of thought put into it is amazing?? ](http://garessta.deviantart.com/art/gif-Pixel-team-626027711)

The rest of the night saw Grillby guarding the western side of the camp, flame flickering as low as he could possibly manage it without forcing himself to sleep, hood pulled low over his head to keep his fluttering flame out of sight. The night was cool. He could tell by the way the air warped as the heat from his body fizzled out into the world around him. Grillby wondered how long it would be before frost started lacing the ground in the morning. A few weeks maybe?

The elemental huffed out a discouraged sigh, smoke billowing forward with his breath. What was he going to do about Gaster? He’d thought after they got back to camp that all the fear, uncertainty - everything that was wrong would be okay again. But Grillby was still afraid, and Gaster was uncertain, and bitter. Grillby didn’t understand what was wrong. Had Gaster always felt this way? Was it just something that was relevant now, after it had been thrown in the skeleton’s face so often recently? But… surely Gaster should understand. None of that was his fault. Blame the mage that summoned the storm, blame the humans, blame the war. Blame _anything_ other than his own weakness. Because Gaster wasn’t weak. Aside from Amathea, Gaster was one of the strongest monsters Grillby had ever met. And not just because he’d saved Grillby’s life either.

The elemental’s soul gave a rueful twist in his chest. Gaster didn’t… _resent_ him… did he? No, no that was impossible. He shouldn’t even be thinking about this. Grillby was strong because he was summoned that way, because he was an elemental, and he had no control over that. Surely Gaster understood…?

 _Or_ , a dark thought in Grillby’s mind crept forward, _that’s precisely_ why _he resents you. Because you were made this way, while he had to work for it._

Grillby felt himself burn a little lower, and he hugged himself quietly, _and you managed to ruin that work. Great job._

Grillby hissed out another sigh, swallowing the sour taste the thoughts had put in him. There was no point in thinking about this. He couldn’t do anything about it right now anyway. Gaster was… probably just venting. He’d be fine after he had some sleep. Right?

Grillby shook his head as if it could shoo the thoughts away. He refocused his attention on the forest around him, resigning himself to feeling anxious and uncomfortable but not letting himself give the thoughts direction. He had more important things to do. He needed to focus, if for no other reason than to feel like he was doing something right.

The night passed slow and uneventful, and filled with Grillby’s flickering and nervous colors. He did his best not to jump at every unnatural noise he heard - that would just make him flare up brighter, and he didn’t want that. He was already too conspicuous as it was. None of the noises he heard turned out to be enemies though. Few of them turned out to be much of anything past a falling branch or a passing animal of some sort. He watched as the sky slowly lit, fire expanding across it only to be consumed by watery blue. The forest crawled to life with birdsong and the chatter of small creatures. Grillby stretched and yawned and finally decided it was light enough to take his hood off and flicker brightly in the warming air.

He passed most of the day like that, standing quiet guard and trying to keep his thoughts from wandering. Twice he had a monster offer to relieve him, but Grillby politely refused. He wasn’t quite ready to come back to camp yet. Besides, he felt more useful keeping watch out here than he did pacing around camp, doing mindless chores. The monsters that offered to relieve him didn’t seem to mind it anyway. There was a haunted look about them, the quiet, damning dread of humans and all the horrors that came with them. Of course they’d rather be in camp, in relative safety, than out here on the fringe where any noise could be death coming.

So when Grillby said he was fine, they didn’t question him. Though one of them was nice enough to get him something small to eat while he watched.

Grillby was left relatively to his own devices until the afternoon. He waited and watched as the sun began to sink, twisting and contorting the shadows into long and reaching shapes as they disappeared into the forest. The dappled light that peered through the canopy above turned a dying golden, embers of light growing cool as the evening chill started to warp the air. The soft crunch of footsteps grabbed the elemental’s attention, and Grillby flickered a quiet greeting as Amathea emerged from the trees behind him. The commander flashed him a sharp-toothed grin.

“I was told I could find you out here,” she hummed, her voice startlingly loud in the quiet air that Grillby had gotten used to. She stopped beside him, leaning back against a nearby tree, “You know, when I told you to take on a few more duties around here, I didn’t mean for you to work yourself to dust.”

Grillby chuckled, his flame crackling amusedly as he gave a shrug, “Standing guard isn’t really hard work.”

“Hard? No,” Amathea conceded, pillowing her arm behind her head as she relaxed back into the tree she’d been leaning against, “But still exhausting. And unnerving when you’re wondering after any humans that could be slinking around.”

“It’s good to be useful though,” Grillby offered. Amathea simply shrugged at this, turning her gaze back to the gently darkening countryside. It would be a few hours yet before twilight was actually upon them, but in the autumn the night seemed to rush towards them. A comfortable pause passed between the two monsters before Amathea hummed.

“We’re leaving out first thing in the morning. You need to make sure your things are gathered - if you even had any to scatter in the first place,” the commander chuckled, “It’ll be nice to be away from this place and finally put that nasty defeat behind us.”

Grillby nodded, “Has anybody else made it to camp?”

“A handful of stragglers,” Amathea sighed, ear frills twitching as she frowned, “Not many, and all of them in bad shape. One I spoke with says the river’s gone down enough to use the ford. We’ll be lucky if we have another night of peace before the humans chase us across the river. It’s sad but, if there’s any monsters left alive out there, they’ll have to find a way of surviving without us. We’ve got no choice now.”  

Grillby felt a tug on his soul at that. The news was bitter to say the least. But… there were some things that couldn’t be helped.

“Speaking of surviving,” Amathea said, catching Grillby in a concerned glare, “How are you holding up? And so help me if you say ‘fine’, I’m going to personally throw you through a tree.”

Grillby laughed, sparking in bright yellows and oranges. Amathea barred her teeth at him in a vicious, threatening sort of grin.

“Aye sure, laugh now tinderbox. We’ll see if you’re still laughing when you’re picking splinters from your backside!”

Still chuckling, Grillby sparked and blazed a grin, “What in the world has you so convinced I’m _not_ fine, Amathea?”

The commander’s grin waned a bit, her glare a little more serious, “Well for a start, you damn near almost set the tent on fire last night.”

She chuckled at the surprise that sparked off the elemental, “Thought nobody noticed that, didja? I’ll admit, I almost didn’t wake up. Was nice feeling all wrapped up and warm. And by the time I realized that was you, you’d woken yourself up. Figured I’d wait and talk to you about it when you were alone. Heaven knows Gaster gets jumpy when he talks about this kind of thing - I figure you might benefit from the privacy like he does.”

Grillby frowned, scuffing a foot against the grass awkwardly, “I mean… it was just a bad dream.”

“Bad dreams aren’t _just_ anything, tinderbox,” Amathea chided gently, “Especially the ones that make you do things in real life. What was it about?”

Grillby scowled, his soul twisting around in his chest uncomfortably. He… honestly didn’t want to be talking about this. It made him feel tense and sick, nervousness starting to writhe around in his stomach.

“It’s dumb,” Grillby finally muttered, sparking bitterly. Amathea only raised an eyebrow at him, silently prompting him to continue. After another awkward pause, Grillby let out a sigh of smoke.

“It was just water. That’s it,” he said finally, hugging himself uncomfortably, “It was the _river_ , actually. I just… I dunno, it scared me.”

“Aye, of course it did,” Amathea’s voice was still gentle and soft, worried, “You have every reason to be scared of it.”

“But I don’t though,” Grillby scowled, frustration pitching his flame into jittering yellows and whites, “I’m fine. I… I mean, I’m _healed_. I’m not in danger. No damage was done that couldn’t be fixed. I shouldn’t be worrying about this - let alone having _nightmares_ about it.”

Amathea studied the elemental as he spoke, asking quietly, “This not the first time you’ve dreamed about this?”

Grillby sighed out a discouraged breath, smoke swirling out with the heavy sigh. He shook his head forlornly.

“When was the first time?”

The elemental rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Uh… when we met that family out in the woods. Gaster had to wake me up.”

“That was before the river though, wasn't it?”

Grillby nodded, his soul giving an uncomfortable twist as he muttered, “I was… dreaming about rain.”

Amathea flashed Grillby the most pitiful expression then, full of quiet worry and regret. Grillby flickered warily at it, a bitter taste writhing inside him.

“Ammy don’t look at me like that,” he scowled, “I’m _fine_.”

“Lad you’re not,” she responded firmly, frowning back at him, “And you’re no lesser a monster for it, understand that. But you can’t just ignore something like this. Ignoring things like this will make them worse, alright? Trust me, tinderbox, I’ve been there. If you keep having dreams like this, you tell me.”

The elemental nodded, and Amathea smirked, “Come on Grillby, that’s not a promise. Do ya need me to do that weird pinky thing Gaster does? Because I will.”

This dragged a short laugh out of Grillby, and the elemental smirked, “I promise I’ll talk to you.”

“Good,” Amathea put her fist on her hip and flashed him an accomplished smile, “It’ll help when we put some distance between us and this nasty place as well.”

Grillby nodded, “Yeah… have you uh… talked to Gaster as well?”

This gave Amathea pause. She frowned down at the grass between her feet, “A bit, though not as much as I’d liked to. I did hear you two spatting last night.”

“I wouldn’t really call it that. We weren’t actually arguing,” Grillby shrugged, and then asked hesitantly, “You don’t think… Gaster resents me do you?”

“You hush that thought right there,” Amathea chidded, “Gaster’s mighty bitter, Grillby, but don’t for a second think it’s directed at you. He’s angry with himself, tinderbox. And who can blame him? The monsters closest to him are twice as strong as he’ll ever be, and there’s very little he can do to change that.”

“But… why?” Grillby flickered greens and blue in confusion, sparks jittering away from his form, “I mean, I understand me. I’m an elemental. I’ll always be this way. But Ammy, you’re a normal monster too. I mean… you’re not _normal_ but…”

Grillby trailed off, at a loss for what to say. He ended his sentence with a confused flicker and a meaningless gesture with his hands. Amathea smiled humorlessly for a moment.

“Gaster will never be a strong monster because he’ll never have the intent or the level of violence needed to become one,” Amathea said simply, sighing as she spoke, “He was given the choice a long time ago wasn’t he? To have Mercy or to Fight whatever he came across. And he decided to be a doctor, didn’t he? He _wants_ to choose mercy, even when he has no choice but to fight. And as far as monsters like _me_ go, I’ve been killing things since I was old enough to make a spear. I have never shown anyone mercy… not that I remember anyway.”

Amathea’s face split into a ferocious grin, and she gave a laugh at the surprise that flickered across Grillby’s face, “That’s right, you’re too young to know any of that, aren’t you? And I don’t really talk about it much either, do I? Grillby, I didn’t come south because I wanted to help out with this war. My family and I were run out of our homeland when the creatures up there had finally had enough of us.”

“You’re not serious,” was all Grillby could think to say. But he knew Amathea, and while her tales tended to be far-fetched, she’d never been known to lie. Even now the commander had a look about her that said she was being serious, even in spite of the grin on her face.

“You know me and my siblings had bets going on who would finally get enough LV to become a boss monster?” Amathea said with a quiet laugh, “We’d go out of our way to attack things just for the EXP. Humans. Monsters. If it moved it was fair game. We were really terrors before we stumbled into this mess down south. I’ll be honest with you, if Ghirdam hadn’t died when he did, he probably would’ve made it to boss monster LV. He was mighty close, and hungry after it like no one else I’d ever met.”

Grillby’s mind was reeling. He flickered all sorts of mixed up, jumbled colors, greens and purples and blues all meshing together in his surprise and confusion.

“But that’s… but you’re not…” he stammered, and Amathea smirked. Finally the elemental managed, “That’s not you. You’re not bloodthirsty, or - or evil. You’re _nice_ , and loyal and a great leader and…”

His sentence stammered to an end when he noticed Amathea’s smile had done nothing but grow since he’d started talking.

“What changed?”

Amathea smirked at this, thinking quietly for a moment, “Well… back then it was my family and I against the world. And we were content with that. We enjoyed it. Our only motivation was benefiting each other and whatever damned souls joined us on occasion. After we joined the war, I became intent on winning, at keeping monster kind from being completely destroyed. Aside from that though, I am still merciless. I am still intent. I _want_ to fight, I’m willing to kill. I’m still hungry for a fight I might lose.”

Her ear frills twitched thoughtfully as she said, “There’s a thrill to a fight that I can’t live without now. It’s written into my soul. I have long lost that part of myself that can look at my enemies and have empathy, see _mercy_. And I doubt I’ll ever get it back again.”

Grillby blinked at Amathea as if he were suddenly seeing her for the first time. He… supposed she was right. He’d only been on an open battlefield with her twice, but he’d seen already that she fought unflinchingly, she showed no hesitation or fear. Even Grillby still hesitated sometimes, he was still afraid before the battle started. It wasn’t until he lost himself to the motion, the adrenaline, and the gravity of the battle that he truly stopped feeling fear. And then there was Gaster, so confident everywhere else in the world, but who fell apart when his life was on the line.

“So… why did you join the war?” Grillby finally asked, “It sounds like you guys were happy - in a way. You knew what you wanted.”

“Aye we did, and it almost got us all killed,” Amathea chuckled, her gaze becoming wistful as she thought back, “We’d been sailing down the coast destroying just about everything we came across and stumbled right into the middle of this mess. When we heard an army was coming, we laughed. We thought it was just going to be some thrown-together group of farmers, something they’d send after bandits and the like. We were wrong. Almost _dead_ wrong. They cornered us in a cove with almost three hundred soldiers.”

Amathea gave a helpless sort of shrug, “We’ll add that day to the growing list of reasons I should be dead. They’d dusted over half our crew when an angel swooped in with her army, trusted elemental at her side, chasing the bastards away. She was a _real_ boss monster. One of the ones that are born great, you know? Not like the murderous blood-drinkers we were trying to be. Lady Toriel, she was called. We thought for sure she would have us killed or imprisoned. After all, we hadn’t just been attacking _humans_ , had we? We’d been tearing up monster settlements as well. But she didn’t. She looked at us, all holy fire and tired wrath, and she _spared us_.”

The commander gave an incredulous laugh, as if even now she couldn’t understand it had actually happened, “Can you imagine our surprise? Us bunch of renegades, brought to our knees for the first time in our lives, brought to this great creature’s mercy. And she does the one thing we’ve never expected from any monster. Ghirdam, my eldest brother, he was so impressed by her. Enchanted almost. He swore fealty to her in a heartbeat. And well… we didn’t have to stay with him. But we’d come so far together…”

Amathea sighed, “I never thought in a hundred years this would have been how we all ended up. Ghirdam died still in her service, you know? And Irade followed him not long after.”

Suddenly her face twisted into a frown, her gaze dropping to some point in the distance that Grillby couldn’t fathom, “There’s been so much going on… I almost forgot how much I missed them.”

Amathea sighed out a heavy breath and then flashed Grillby a wan smile, “Look at me getting sentimental like some fool lass.”

The elemental crackled a chuckle, “Sentimental isn’t bad, you know.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Amathea smirked, “But it’s definitely not getting us back to camp anytime sooner. Come on. I had Gaster get us some supper started. If we get back in time we might be able to keep him from burning the camp to the ground!”

She motioned for Grillby to follow her, and with a tired flicker the elemental fell in step beside her. He noticed her gaze looked a bit distant as she walked, her ear frills twitching every once in a while in thought. Grillby figured he knew what she was thinking about. She was probably remembering a pair of monsters she’d been really close to… and wondering how her sister was doing. For not the first time, Grillby found himself wondering about how strong Amathea was. He honestly couldn’t imagine what something like that must be like… he didn’t have any siblings, obviously. Though he figured it might be about the same as losing Amathea or Gaster, or even Gerson. He hadn’t seen the turtle monster in so long… he hoped he was okay.

When they reached their tent, Gaster was indeed still working on dinner. He quite proudly showed off the blue magic he’d managed to repair - flickering Grillby’s soul blue for a few brief seconds before dropping the magic again. The elemental was nervous, but glad Gaster was actually fixing it - but before he could say as much the food Gaster had been making flared up with the rest of the fire. They salvaged what they could, both Grillby and Amathea laughing about the terrible cooking but eating heartily anyway. Gaster sprawled himself out by the fire, eating briefly before getting back to work on his soul, making occasional quips about how obviously the food was Grillby’s fault since he hadn’t come back in time to cook it. He smiled jokingly as he said it though.

That night Grillby dreamed of nothing, and he was grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a mess and I apologize. A lot. There was a lot I needed to convey and I don't think I did it well at all. aldksjflasdkf
> 
> I'm also going to go ahead and call out the bad news now: I'm officially switching to once a week submissions. 
> 
> I was going to have to do it soon with classes starting back up in a couple weeks anyway, so this switch was inevitable. I'm just really sorry it happened this early. Honestly I am. These last couple of chapters have been really hard. I scrapped this one three times this week guys. And I still wanna scrap it honestly. But I need to keep moving or I'm going to get stuck, which I don't want.
> 
> I think I'm going to go ahead and keep posting on Thursdays, since that's how it's worked out so far. If I (somehow magically) make two chapters a week, or start making a buffer again, we'll see about increasing updates again. I'm sorry once again.
> 
> This sucks, it really does. This is the first time in a very long time I've been able to keep up a schedule on anything, and I've managed to fudge it up. *soft hissing noises*


	36. Sister let me tell you a story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone, finally, after all these manymany chapters, makes the appearence they were supposed to make months ago. :'D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It you would like to help me write the next chapter, I highly suggest reading the last paragraph of the author's notes (if that's not a thing you normally read).

They walked, a slow and steady march pocketed with scavenging and patrols and nervous backward glances. They wove their way south through rolling hills and turning forests, the green leaves shifting slowly into golds and reds. The air was beginning to chill as well, especially in the forest where the sunlight couldn’t always reach down it’s amber fingers to grasp at and warm the world. It tried it’s hardest though, and in a few scattered clearings and glens the crowd of monsters trudged their way through the air was bright and warm. The world was dying in spectacular fashion, the entire countryside a smothering blaze. It was beautiful and dismal, like dust dancing through dappled sunlight. It was the perfect mix of melancholy and hopeful, somber and brave.

Amathea had been right - it felt good to be moving again. Every step away from their defeat was like a breath of fresh air, a weight lifted off the soul. There wasn’t a human in sight, and for every passing moment this held true, Grillby heaved a sigh of relief. This stained-glass peacefulness wouldn’t last long he knew. At some point humans would catch up to them, or they’d be sent off towards another engagement. But for now, isolated from the scattered battles and carnage that hid in the landscape, Grillby could pretend he was safe.

Gaster seemed to have lightened up a bit since their departure. He talked more, arms flailing with vibrant energy with every word. He did a good job of keeping Grillby and Amathea entertained on the long walk back to the nearest encampment, peppering thoughtful silences with facts about plants and animals they passed, and occasionally rippling the air with some eccentric idea for magic or travel. The ‘all monsters should have wings’ topic was brought up a few times, much to Amathea’s exaggerated dismay. Every night he stayed awake working on his magic, but when asked how it was going he answered with a little more optimism than he had before. Soon, he said, _soon_ it would be fixed again. He just needed to keep working.

Amathea herself couldn’t seem to get enough of Grillby and Gaster. She stayed close beside them - sometimes huddling a little closer to Grillby when the temperature dropped in the evening and the biting chill wormed it’s way through the air. Honestly, Grillby didn’t mind all that much. He remembered a time when he _would have_ minded, and thinking back on it made him feel foolish, but also happy. If Amathea noticed, she didn’t let on about it. Though she wasn’t shy in regaling the two monsters - and any others that walked close by enough to hear - with stories from before her time in the war. She spoke about brazen, legendary feats, filled with infectious laughter and zeal, about bandits and renegades, near-death experiences and pride and camaraderie. Her enthusiasm was contagious, carrying to the rest of the monsters as they walked, or huddled close around a fire, and listened.

And if anyone called her out, told her the stories were too fantastic to be real? She’d simply flash them that dangerous grin, ear frills twitching with the challenge, fist planted firmly on her hip.

“I’m many things, you snoutbrand ragabrash, but a _liar_ isn’t one of them!”

Even Brigg seemed impressed as he sat back and listened, occasionally giving a skeptical snort when Amathea’s stories seemed a little too far-fetched. But he smiled and he chuckled, and sometimes joined in with a story of his own, his cold gaze and snarling maw softening as he remembered fondly times when the taste of dust wasn’t so heavy in the air. Grillby found himself feeling young and small when he listened to them swap stories. He was content to just listen as they spoke, silently admiring them and their tales - and gently wishing he’d been able to meet Amathea’s brothers while they were still alive. From the way she talked about them, they must have been interesting monsters to know, all bawdy hellfire and zeal just like Amathea was.

After a week of walking south they finally arrived at the encampment they’d been sent to take refuge in, though to call it an encampment was a disservice to what it actually was. In reality it was more like a small fort, chipped out of one of the rockier hillsides where the trees grew thinner and gave way to a large clearing. There was a wall, short and made of a staggered mix of wood and stone, with a single gate in it’s center. The wall was studded in short intervals with vicious-looking spears, snarling outward like hungry teeth so any enemy foolish enough to try and scale it would be poked and pricked by the jagged points. The inner court had several tents, another army had settled there in transit across the country as well. There was a tower near the back of the complex, nestled comfortably against the rocky hillside. Inside it, Grillby knew, the fort extended into the hill itself, cavernous and empty and ready to shelter a bulk of troops if an attack was launched against it. That was where the more permanent troops of the encampment would be, sprawling out in stone barracks that honeycombed the inside of the hill.

The gate was opened, a few quick words exchanged with the guards inside, and the ramshackle army crowded inside, thankful for the safety that came with the wall. Once inside, they were given the eastern courtyard to set up tents and fires and make themselves comfortable. It was the first camp in what seemed like months where comfort was actually extended to them. Monsters were given bedding, broken tents and shelters were replaced with newer-woven ones that the fort could afford to spare. Fresh food was passed around - well, fresher food than they’d been surviving on for the past few weeks at least. It felt like Grillby had been yanked out of the war and thrown into the lap of luxury. It was hard for him to believe that just a month or so prior he had lived in this kind of comfort for months and been _bored_ by it. Now, kneeling beside a cooking fire with fresh ingredients and warm stew brewing, his little box of spices finally coming back into use after so long being neglected, Grillby felt like he was in heaven.

“Oh _man_ ,” Gaster groaned, slumping to the ground beside the elemental, “I missed this. I missed this _so_ much.”

Amathea chuckled at him from where she sat on the other side of the campfire, leaning back on her arm as she warmed her feet on the stones that circled the small blaze, “Aye, it’s nice to have walls around us. And something worth eating besides half-spoiled jerky.”

Grillby flickered a smirk, “Yeah… it really makes me miss home.”

The elemental shook his head, “Well - supper will be ready in a few more minutes so -”

Grillby caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye and trailed off mid-sentence. He looked up in time to see a shadow suddenly loom itself over Amathea. The commander’s ear frills gave a nervous twitch and she frowned at Grillby, his flame was already pitching into surprised colors.

With a loud shriek the shadow tumbled into Amathea, and the two of them were suddenly a tangle of wrestling limbs sprawled in the dirt. Grillby leaped to his feet, just in time to catch the dinner pot as one of the two brawling forms almost knocked it over. With a snarl of a laugh Amathea managed to wriggle herself free of the other’s grip and stagger to her feet. She threw her hand forward -!

There were two identical _pings!_ as both monsters threw forward green magic. And then both of them were on the ground, the crushing power of intent and the weight of the green shields both monsters now bore slamming them off their feet. A few seconds of shocked silence passed where Grillby blinked in bewilderment at the two monsters now sprawled across the ground. One looked at the other, vicious grins splitting both their faces as their magic flickered out of existence. Then Amathea snorted, and both of them were roaring with laughter.

Gaster peeked out from where he had taken shelter behind the elemental, a bright smile weaving across his teeth, “Oh… well that’s definitely Thetis. Hi Thetis!”

Thetis was already pulling herself to her feet. She beamed brilliantly at Gaster, lunging for him across the fire, “Ha! If it isn’t twig legs! Get over here!”

Gaster let out a startled yelp as the fish  monster suddenly swept him up in a crushing bear hug, somehow managing to lift him off the ground even though she was even shorter than Amathea was to him. The skeleton writhed around in her grasp, desperately trying to pry her arms away from their grip around his waist.

“Hey hey _hey!_ Don’t _crush the skeleton!_ ” he shrieked, “I break _way_ easier than your sister does!”

“Oh don’t be such a kill joy!” Thetis growled with a smile, giving Gaster one last squeeze before finally dropping him back on his feet, “It’s been _ages_ since I’ve seen you guys!”

Her tattered ear frills fanned out in surprise when she noticed Grillby, a pair of silver earrings shimmering subtly in the elemental’s light as the frills twitched thoughtfully. Her smile wavered for a second before splitting wider than it had been before.

“And _you_ must be _Grillby_ ,” Thetis beamed, offering Grillby a hand to shake, “Thanks for keeping these scalawags out of trouble while I’ve been out saving the world! Gods know _somebody_ had to.”

Grillby flickered a nervous smile and took her hand in his - immediately Thetis yanked him towards her, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. With a rough yank he was lifted off his feet and spun around before she plopped him back down again - Grillby barely managed to stay on his feet when she dropped him.

Amathea laughed all the while, “Thetis you beastie, don’t terrorize them too much! They’re not used to your manhandling!”

“Train a pair of softies, did you?” Thetis spat back at her, finally making her way back to Amathea to wrap her up in a hug as well, “You’re losing your touch _commander_.”

“Oh I’ll not take any sass from you, ya fustylugs of a lass,” Amathea chuckled back, breaking their embrace after a pause, “Where in the whole wide _world_ have you _been?_ ”

She looked her sister up and down before flashing a mischievous grin, “You look like you took a ride in a barrel full of knives!”

Thetis snorted, barely containing another outburst of laughter, “ _Me?!_ What about _you,_ you old hag? Is that _grey hair_?!”

Amathea chuckled, reaching up to yank at her sister’s short red ponytail, “Aye sure, tease _my hair_ when you’ve gone and lopped all of yours off! Fool girl, that was the only pretty thing about you, wasn’t it?”

Thetis growled a laugh at this and gave Amathea a playful punch in the shoulder, jeering some joking response about Amathea not getting any prettier either. The two giggled at each other once more, each drinking the other in as if they’d forgotten what the other looked like. Grillby couldn’t really blame them though - how long _had_ it been since they’d last met? It had been since before Amathea had taken on Grillby as a charge at least, and who knew for how long beforehand that they’d been apart?

Grillby served out food while the two chattered back and forth, each asking the other a thousand questions about what had happened, what glorious things they’d accomplished in the other’s absence. Amathea pointed out a brand new scar Thetis had on display, a wicked looking mark that twisted along the side of her throat, and launched the younger sister into a harrowing story about an ambush and how she’d single-handedly dispatched this thing or another. Grillby had to wonder at how Amathea had even noticed the scar - Thetis was almost as covered and criss-crossed with the pale marks as her sister was. Though Grillby did notice most of Thetis’s looked fresher, harsh and bright against her pale turquoise scales, while most of Amathea’s had faded with time.

When given the chance Amathea bragged heartily on her own exploits, some of which were from before she’d even taken on Grillby as a charge. Thetis soaked in her stories with the kind of hungry curiosity that Grillby had only ever seen in Gaster’s eyes, and he couldn’t help but flicker a smile at it. At length Amathea offered for her two charges to share their adventures as well, and with a grin and a laugh Gaster plunged into their stories, his arms signing in grand gestures the things that had happened to them. Grillby sat quietly and let Gaster talk, only occasionally adding something here or there that the skeleton missed.

The campfire was burning low when Thetis finally sat back, sharp-toothed smile resting contentedly across her features, “Heavens alive it’s good to see you again.”

She glanced back over to her sister, her smile turning sad, “I’ll be honest Am, I was thinking for awhile there that I might be getting a letter from you.”

“Losing faith in me, are you?” Amathea laughed lightheartedly.

“Not at all,” Thetis replied, a smirk on her teeth, “But you’ve started looking pretty mortal lately. Scared me half to dust when you lost your arm, you know. And with the news I got on how your battle down south went...”

She sighed, and Amathea frowned at her, “It’s getting scary out there Am.”

“It’s always been scary,” Amathea’s voice was gentle and comforting, “But we can fight through it. We’ll figure a way of winning this Thetis, you watch, it’ll be okay.”

A silence fell across them. Thetis chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully, ragged ear frills giving a few thoughtful twitches as she blinked at her sister. Finally she mumbled, “You’ve a fine amount of optimism given the losses we’ve taken recently.”

Amathea shrugged, “Well given the alternative is falling in despair, I’ll take dumb optimism. Without hope, we might as well be dust.”

The commander frowned then, “I mean… nothing we do at this point is going to be pretty or glorious. But the point of surviving this mess isn’t to be anything like that. Surviving is just… hanging on until we find a way out. We’re going to do a lot of losing before we finally win anything. But with so many hearts and minds focused on living - well that has to mean _something_. I’m not sure this world is worth living in if something like that can mean nothing.”

Grillby flickered in thoughtful silence at this, wondering quietly about whether or not Amathea could be right. Thetis had a point - the battle they’d just been through, the loss of the entire western front, it was almost too much. What would happen if they lost? At the rates the humans were going… they might kill all of them, every monster they came across might be reduced to dust. Grillby was starting to seriously doubt the monsters had a chance of winning this war. If Amathea was right, and so many hearts banded together meant something powerful, wouldn’t that just make their situation all the more dismal? After all, so many humans had only one intent left in them now - destroy the monsters. He just couldn’t understand -

“ - why is this even happening?” Grillby mused his thoughts outloud, and all eyes around the campfire turned to him, “Why do we even have to fight? I just… I don’t understand.”

Amathea and Thetis exchanged a concerned glance, and Gaster mimed out some confused sentence to himself with his hands.

“No one ever talk to you about this when they summoned you?” Thetis finally asked, brow wrinkling a bit in an indignant frown, “That’s a shit thing to do if they didn’t.”

Grillby flickered in dull colors, suddenly feeling foolish. He remembered when he and Gaster had first met when the skeleton had brought up something similar. He remembered such a short time ago how Grillby had been content to just follow what he figured was his purpose. But if this _was_ his purpose, to fight and die in this war… slowly he was beginning to wonder why it had to be that way.

“I guess I never really thought it was important before,” Grillby sighed after a pause, smoke curling out with the breath, “But now… I guess… I’m starting to figure out I might die because of this. If that’s going to happen… I want to know what I’m dying for.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that, tinderbox. Isn’t a fun thought to think you might wind up dust you now,” Amathea said with a sad, gentle sort of smile, her ear frills dipping a bit in dismay, “But it’s a good reason to want to know.”

Amathea cast another look to her sister before saying finally, “Well I guess it’ll be because of monsters like us, that all this got this way between monsters and humans, isn’t it?”

Thetis gave a rueful smile, “That’d be about right, wouldn’t it?”

Grillby gave a confused flicker, looking between the sisters, “How?”

“Aye well, there’s two types of boss monsters in the world aren’t there?” Amathea began, a somber smile twisting across her teeth, “There’s the beasties that are born powerful, made to lead and give hope and keep peace. Monsters like Toriel, or the King and his children. And then there’s monsters me and my family that decided this world was too cruel to the weak, and the only way for you to survive was if you were _that_ strong. You start thinking this world is kill or be killed, and then suddenly you’re getting thirsty after that blood and battle.”

Amathea shrugged, “It’s not a popular idea now. Most monsters have figured out that kind of power comes with consequences. But years ago before we were even thought of? The world was a little darker even than it is now. Famines, plagues, forces of nature, wars - it was all pushing monsters and humans alike to be a bit more cruel. And monsters were starting to kill because they thought they had to, and then because they liked the feeling of being _strong_ , and then because they’d killed too much and they were starting to turn into something a little less like a monster and a little more like a demon.”

Amathea paused, running her tongue across her teeth as she gathered her thoughts for a moment, “We had legends up north about them - dragons like Brigg who turned into boss monsters, and suddenly they were taller than trees and spitting poison and smoke that could dust an army. There were ghosts who could steal your soul while you slept and turn the air like ice, who’d call out their victims by screamin’. Terrible monsters, that did terrible things. They didn’t think they were monsters anymore. They thought they were gods.”

The commander snorted and rolled her eyes, “Course thinkin’ like that is dangerous. You start forgetting you can still get dusted, and most of them were, over petty and stupid things they should’ve seen coming. But even after they were gone, the fear still stuck around. Fear that got worse when we figured out we could absorb human souls. After a while the humans decided we were too dangerous to live side-by-side anymore. This war has been ragin’ ever since.”

“So… _we_ started this?” Grillby asked, flickering dismally. Thetis shook her head.

“Hardly!” she barked, crossing her arms indignantly, “For every mass murdering boss monster there ever were, I’d bet my soul there’s been another ten human warlords that have done the same. But humans are forgetful beasties, and stupidly forgiving of the horrors their own kind can make. And if they can’t forgive something their kind has done? Their kind stops being _human_. They make stories up about them, how they made pacts with demons or were possessed by spirits, or born from some evil thing.”

“The point is though,” Gaster interjected, finally speaking up, “We’re not innocent, and we never have been. This war was going to happen eventually. It was just a matter of who was going to start it, and who was going to win.”

A somber quiet settled over the four of them, thoughtful and dark. Grillby watched the little fire, now mostly embers and charcoal, as it cast pale white and pink hues about the world. Well, it hadn’t exactly been the explanation Grillby had expected - well… he supposed he hadn’t expected much. What still baffled him though was Amathea and her family, and how in spite of all they knew about boss monsters, they had still wanted to be something like that. Why would _any_ monster want that kind of blood on their hands just to be strong? It wasn’t all that great a thing to have… and at the end of the day you were still just as fallible as before. Grillby _knew_ this. But once again he had to wonder if the only reason he thought that way was because he was born strong. And… he had to quietly wonder if any of the monsters around him might resent him for that. It was a paranoid thought that was starting to echo a little more frequently.

Finally it was Amathea who spoke up, a reassuring smile resting across her features, “Well, now that all the serious talk is out of the way… I think it’s time we had a little fun. I’m sick and tired of seeing every monster around this place looking so discouraged.”

Thetis chuckled, “I mean, they have a good reason to be.”

“Aye they do!” Amathea said grandly, getting to her feet, “But they also need to remember we haven’t lost yet. Including this one, it would seem.”

She ushered to Grillby, and he flickered a smirk at her.

“Thetis, feel like singin’ with me tomorrow?”

“ _What?_ ” Gaster was suddenly beaming. He grinned across the fire at Thetis, whose face had twisted into an annoyed scowl, “Thetis! You _sing?!_ ”

“Aye yes, I sing,” the fish monster said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “Not _well_. But I can.”

“Oooooh yes!” Gaster laughed, pumping a fist in the air. With a grin he started chanting, “Bon-fire! Bon-fire! Bon-fire!”

“Would you _shut up_ ,” Thetis hissed, managing to take her boot off and hurl it at the skeleton, who artfully dodged it, “You’ll wake up the whole damn camp.”

She rolled her eyes when the skeleton grinned back at her, his hands still working in the same motion they had been when he was chanting. Grillby crackled a laugh as the skeleton signed over and over _bonfire bonfire bonfire bonfire!_

Amathea chuckled, “Don’t worry over it too much Thetis. If you don’t want to sing I won’t make you.”

Gaster beamed, eye sockets narrowing mischievously, “Yeah Thetis. If you’re too scared to sing in front of a bunch of monsters-”

“Who said I was _scared?!_ ” Thetis cut him off abruptly, a daring snarl twisting across her teeth, “I’m _never_ scared! I just don’t wanna embarrass Am by out singin’ her is all!”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Amathea’s smile turned vicious and challenging as she rounded on her sister, ear frills flaring, “I’m sorry I must’ve heard you wrong there for a second. I thought for sure you just said you can sing better than me!”

Grillby busied himself with putting out the rest of the fire - and concealing his laughter as he did so. Obviously he didn’t do it well enough, because both Amathea and Thetis started glaring daggers in his direction.

“What’s so funny?!” Thetis demanded, and in spite of himself Grillby found himself wanting to laugh harder.

“N-nothing,” Grillby muttered as best he could, stamping down the need to giggle, “I just - eheh - can’t wait to see how this turns out.”

“Oh you _watch!_ ” Thetis snarled indignantly, “I’ll knock your damn boots off with my voice!”

Gaster draped an arm around Grillby’s shoulder then, leaning against the elemental as he raised the ridge above his unbroken eye, “Oh, we _totally_ believe you. Don’t we, firefly?”

Amathea’s uproarious laughter cut them off then, and gave her sister a hearty pat on the back as she did so - he was surprised the hit didn’t knock Thetis over. Grillby knew it would’ve knocked him off balance, but of course Thetis was probably used to Amathea’s enthusiasm.

“Well that settles it then!” Amathea declared, “Tomorrow night we’ll show these boys how it’s done.”

“Aye of _course_ we will!” the annoyance in Thetis’s voice had already been replaced by a zealous thrill, and the younger sister crossed her arms proudly, “You’re on at sundown, sis!”

The two monsters faded into scattered laughter and talks back and forth as Amathea turned to walk Thetis home. Though Grillby noticed before they walked too far away, Amathea shot Gaster a wink over her shoulder. The skeleton gave her a thumbs-up back, smiling proudly as she disappeared from sight.

“This is gonna be awesome!” Gaster grinned, “I’ve never heard Thetis sing before - but Ammy has some cool stories about the magic she uses when she does.”

Grillby chuckled, “Well if it’s anything like Ammy’s, we’ll probably all be dust before the night’s over. Still… it’ll be a nice distraction.”

The two monsters exchanged tired smiles, Grillby’s fire flickering a bit lower. Gaster sighed and signed to him comfortingly.

“We’re going to be okay, firefly,” Gaster hummed, “I mean, if you don’t believe me, you can at least believe Ammy right?”

The elemental nodded, but stayed wisely silent. Honestly… he was really beginning to wonder if they were going to make it out of this alive. The _hoped_ they did but… the world was starting to look dark. Even still, he supposed he should be grateful. For once, it was raining somewhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I wanted to thank you guys for your support. Honestly, it means a lot to me. And thank you even more for being understanding of me wanting to go down to once a week updates. You guys are amazing people.
> 
> Secondly: _Thetis joins the party_
> 
> And boy-oh-boy has her entire entry been edited to death :'D I've rewritten this scene several times. All of the end dialogue has changed, along with the tone of the chapter as a whole. But I really like the way it ended up, I think.
> 
> The good news though is finally, the thing I've been wanting to write for the last few chapters, gets to happen. It is another one of those scenes that's been planned out since pretty early in the story's life - though not nearly as early as some scenes we've already seen and some scenes yet to come. Next chapter is gonna be fun (like actual fun though, not the bad 'oh god someone's gonna die' fun that writers tend to uh... have fun... with...)
> 
> On that note though! I'm going to take suggestions I think?
> 
> **Anybody got any medieval songs they'd like to see sung in the next chapter?** I can't make any guarentees on what will make it in or not, but I can say I'll at least try to reference what you send me. I know I already have one that someone sent me on Deviantart (that I need to find again whoops).


	37. Goodnight And Joy Be With You All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Rawr there is a fanart feature this week! Holy cheese**
> 
> The first one is[ the finished WIP by Garessta on Deviantart](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/Dream-Team-626708720), and holy cheese it turned out fantastic. Seriously their painting skills are top notch!
> 
> Next is an AU of an AU, as I've started to call these things :'D [by moonshadow909 on DA](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/Family-Casting-Rain-627529984). It's cute. I can't stop smiling at it. And it's the first time anyone's ever doodled up Brigg! 
> 
> And last but certainly not least! We have [this magnificent thing by Loumun-Versen on DA](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/AT-By-the-Fire-626265921), who did an art trade with me and offered to do a Casting Rain thing. It's Ammy telling the boys a story around the campfire and it's aaaawesome!

That night was another on a slowly growing list of nights that Grillby had a nightmare. The elemental awoke in a panic, scrambling to get to his feet and get his bearings. He was stopped short by Gaster. The skeleton delicately pinged his soul blue, catching Grillby before he could do much more than sit up. The grip was weak and faltering, but it was enough to get the elemental grounded, help him remember where he was. Grillby let himself be eased back down again, Gaster's grip flickering out not seconds later. The skeleton sprawled out beside him then, his arms pillowed behind his head as he waited patiently for Grillby to catch his breath and calm the panicked flickering of his flame. It wasn't until his flame was casting itself back into orange and yellow hues that Grillby finally dared to speak up. He voice was hoarse and tired in his throat, and startlingly loud against the quiet of the night around them.

"Sorry," he murmured, "Kinda… panicked there for a second."

"I noticed," Gaster hummed, his voice quiet but pleasant, "Nightmare?"

Grillby flickered quietly to himself, a question in the color of his flame. Gaster chuckled.

"Ammy told me."

" _Of course_ she did," Grillby sighed out a soft fluttering of sparks and smoke, "It's not that big of a deal."

Gaster watched the elemental warily for a few seconds before he finally yawned, seeming content to let the conversation drop for now. He curled over onto his side and went to sleep. Grillby watched him nervously, flickering quietly to himself as he watched the skeleton grow still, the lights of his eyes out. The elemental had to worry if it was… safe… having Gaster so close by while he was sleeping. Especially recently, with his nightmares making him flare so much hotter. But… it was comforting knowing someone was close by if he needed them. And besides, he'd never hurt Gaster before. Or Amathea. Or anyone. Maybe he could ignore the feeling of paranoia for now?

Grillby hushed his flame into sleeping hues and, after a while, fell back asleep as well.

He woke up to Gaster complaining loudly about a lack of breakfast, and with a yawn and a chuckle Grillby got up and got to work. By mid-morning he had a soft stew made for them, mostly vegetables and broth with some bread for them to mop it up with. He had to get the bread from one of the stronghold's kitchens - he decided then that as soon as the war was over, he was going to teach himself how to make his own. It smelled _amazing_ , and it didn't look too terribly hard to make.

By the time Grillby was back at their campsite, Brigg had joined Amathea by the fire, and joined them for breakfast as well. The two chattered on and on about various news they'd heard from the Capital and from captains that were around the compound - none of it sounded good. Grillby and Gaster ate in silence, listening forlornly to the two captains as they compared ideas on what to do next, when and why. Brigg seemed concerned with the amount of monsters being lost - muttering something about dust counts and head counts not matching up. Amathea offered for the two of them to talk to Thetis later. Grillby flickered confusedly at that - he hadn't thought Thetis was a captain as well? Then again, he didn't even know what unit Thetis was a part of. How was he supposed to know if she led her own or not?

The rest of the day saw Gaster and Grillby wandering about the courtyard of the stronghold, speaking with various venders and restocking on supplies, getting repairs done to armor. Apparently they weren't the only ones with the idea. The tiny stalls were impossibly crowded with monsters from the units stationed inside the wall, everyone taking the time to get belongings replaced or mended. Little necessities that had been missed were being bought - alcohol, cider, monster candies. Even simpler things like clothes without holes, blankets that weren't threadbare, shoes that hadn't been walked through. There were quite a few merchants that would be happy while counting their gold that evening.

Grillby begrudgingly found himself a new shield to replace his old one, grumbling about how it wouldn't be the same as the one he'd left behind. Gaster thought it was hilarious - after all, Grillby had given the thing away freely! He shouldn't have given it up if he was just going to complain about it later. In the end though, Grillby had to smile. He was sure Col appreciated having the shield more than Grillby ever could. And who knew? Maybe with human luck working the way it did, the little prayer written on it might make a nice ward for them should they ever need it.

While they were out, Grillby insisted on getting Gaster to get a blade of his own - though the skeleton managed to weasel his way out of getting an actual sword. Instead, they outfitted Gaster with a pair of long knives. Grillby knew the skeleton was at least fast enough to use them, even if he knew his friend wouldn't have to use them often. Gaster was much too reliant on magic for anything like that. But should the time come when Gaster was exhausted, his magic spent like it had been when he'd been trying to defend Grillby out in the forest, and the two blades would come in handy to say the least. They were a bit different to use than swords, and Grillby promised to give Gaster some lessons in how to use them. They were useless if the skeleton didn't know how to hold his own with them.

Before they wandered their way back to camp, Grillby did managed to snag some new spices for his little spice box. They were a little more expensive than he'd hoped they would be, but he didn't know when he'd be able to get more - assuming he actually _got_ another chance. In hindsight… it was a little silly to waste the gold on them. For all he knew, he'd be dust before he ever got the chance to really use them. But he was excited nonetheless. Gaster picked up some rosemary from the same cart, and while they walked he handed the little pouch it was carried in over to Grillby. The elemental flickered confusedly at him, and Gaster feigned a stern look in his direction.

"Alright firefly! As your personal doctor, I'm telling you to keep that with you every night when you go to sleep," he cracked a grin, "It's rosemary. So… in theory it'll help keep nightmares away. I mean, it never worked for me but… you know… different cures for different monsters, right?"

He shrugged, "And besides! If it doesn't work, you could always throw it in your spice box."

Grillby flickered gratefully down at the little packet of herbs, and then beamed a smile to Gaster, "Oh. Well… thank you."

"More than welcome, firefly!" Gaster said with a grand flourish of his hands.

"Though," Grillby chuckled as he tucked away the little bit of herbs into his inventory, "I _did_ tell you not to make a fuss about it."

Gaster feigned an indignant look, "What? Who's fussing? _I'm_ not fussing. I was just being _nice_."

He made a grand show of crossing his arms, his face twisting into a pouty frown - though Grillby could still see the smile on the edge of his teeth and in the lights of his eyes.

Grillby laughed giving Gaster a good-natured shove, "Oh _fine_. I appreciate the rosemary _Doctor_ Gaster. I'll be sure to sleep with it _every night_. Better?"

Gaster beamed, chest puffing out pridefully as he signed, _much better!_

Back at the campsite, Amathea was already arranging for the grand bonfire she'd had planned. She had their tent torn down and moved, along with all the other tents around them. Brigg and Thetis were helping her stack wood for a decently-sized fire. This bustle alone was already drawing a small crowd, curious monsters looking on and wondering what the bonfire was being made for. When word was passed around that Amathea was going to be singing, the crowd got a little larger. Some of the monsters Grillby recognized from Brigg's unit, and as they whispered amongst themselves he realized some of them had been there the first night Grillby had met Amathea, when she'd first sung.

By the time the sun was setting, they had several monsters sat around a small blaze. Amathea and Thetis sat side-by-side, whispering to each other about who was going to sing what. Brigg sat shortly beside Thetis, the giant of a monster looking cramped and uncomfortable, curled up as small as he could be in between the monsters around him. Gaster sat to Grillby's right, listening intently to Amathea as her and Thetis exchanged ideas. A thrill of nervousness crept through the elemental's flame as he looked around at the gathered monsters. There were more this time than the last time Amathea had sung, and they all murmured conversations to each other in hushed tones, looking around expectantly.

Grillby felt his flame flicker into nervous hues of green and yellow. He nudged Gaster quietly, grabbing the skeleton's attention.

"Gaster I think I need to leave," Grillby sparked in an anxious whisper, and Gaster laughed.

"What? _Why?_ " he chuckled, "Look, if you're afraid of Ammy's magic stuff-"

"It's not that," Grillby breathed, "I can't… I _can't sing_."

Gaster blinked down at him for a moment, taken off guard. Then slowly, a smile curled its way back across his face, "Oh _come on_ Grillby-"

"I'm _serious_ Gaster!" The elemental hissed with a sputter of anxious sparks, "I've never sung anything before past humming by the campfire."

"Well that didn't stop you last time."

"Gaster, it was raining last time," Grillby frowned, "I wasn't _allowed_ to leave."

This gave the skeleton pause. He moved his hands through a few half-finished thoughts, none of them coherent enough for Grillby to pick out.

Finally he said, "Well… I mean… You're quiet and intimidating right?"

Gaster gave a reluctant smile, "Nobody in their right mind is going to pick you for anything - except me or Ammy. And… if it makes you that nervous, _I_ won't pick you if I sing. And you could always, you know, think of a short song? So you don't have to sing for very long?"

Grillby felt his throat get a little tighter, his nervousness churning him into uncomfortable colors as he whispered, " _I can't sing_."

Gaster smiled, putting a hand on Grillby's shoulder reassuringly. He was going to say something too, hoping to put the elemental's fears at ease at least a little, but Amathea's voice rang through the air and cutting him off. All heads turned to the captain. She sat with her elbow propped up on her knee, hand balancing on a tall flask that she'd summoned out of her inventory. Oh. Grillby forgot she had that. A few monsters exchanged confused looks, wondering what in the world the fish monster was up to.

"Alright ya bunch of bespawlin' loiter-sacks!" Amathea proclaimed, her face split in a ferocious, adventurous grin, "No doubt all of you've been hearing all day about this siren call of a voice o' mine. Most beautiful thing on the all the lands and all the seas, all magic and nonsense. Well, I'll not busy myself with telling ya's if it's true - you'll find out for yourselves soon enough won't you? But I'll give you all a warning now! Siren's voice have I, but I'll be dead before I sing alone! So here's how this works…"

The hand she'd had balancing on the top of the flask moved, flicking up in a quick motion, fingers flourishing as she did. A single gold coin leapt from her fingers, shimmering in the firelight as it turned in the air before Amathea caught it deftly. The held it up between her finger and her thumb, the gilded sheen on it almost dancing in the light of the fire.

"I'll start us off shall I? Let you guys hear this _melodious_ voice of mine. Then this coin here gets flipped! If the king winks at me, I'll pick a person to my left, if the crown, I'll pick to my right. And they're the next in line to sing."

There was a flourish of Amathea's fingers again and the coin _disappeared_. There were a few started murmurs from the crowd of monsters, a few laughs. Already she'd pulled them all in, immersed them in the adventurousness of her tone and the enthusiasm of her display. Amathea seemed to realize this, her eyes sparkling with pride and mystery.

"If you're picked, you take a swig from this fine drink of mine," she tapped her palm against the flask at her feet, "Ya sing. Ya flip the coin, and we go on. If you're not ready to match me in a singing contest then, by all means."

Amathea did the best bow she could manage from where she sat, arm extending to usher into the night around them, "Take your leave. But if not then sit back and relax! Have a drink. We'll see if any of you muck-spoutin' raggabrash has the pipes to put mine to shame."

This brought a chorus of murmurs and questions through the crowd of gathered monsters, mixing with laughter and daring smiles. Looks were exchanged, concerned and curious glances warping in the dancing firelight. Just like the last time Amathea had given such a show, all the monsters in the circle were loath to leave. Curiosity and wonder held them in place, along with anxious looks at their friends who refused to leave. Grillby noticed a few monsters shuffling off into the night, finally giving in to nervousness - or perhaps already admitting to themselves they couldn't or wouldn't sing. With an anxious flicker Grillby thought he should be joining them.

But Gaster was looking at him expectantly, begging him silently not to leave. So Grillby stayed, sighing resignedly and praying none of the monsters around the circle decided to pick him.

"Alright then!" Amathea barked, getting to her feet. Grillby blinked confusedly at her. This was… new. She turned on her heel and bowed grandly to Thetis, who beamed up at her.

"Care to join me on my grand stage, lass?"

The two sisters exchanged a laugh as Amathea helped Thetis to her feet. At their command, the circle was pulled back - enough that the two girls had a space around the fire to move around in. Amathea took a long drink from that ceramic flask of hers - commenting in a laugh to her sister that she'd need the extra liquor for… whatever it was they were about to do. But the two were practically bubbling with excitement, all smiles and bright eyes, giddy down to their very soul.

"Alright, to start us off tonight, we'll be singin' 'Teir Abhaile Riu' for you fine monsters," Amathea chuckled, and Grillby realized from the tightness in her voice that she was actually _nervous_ , "And we're gonna try to dance."

Thetis grinned, "Aye and if any of you laugh at our mess up here you're dust, just remember that!"

This sent a murmur of laughter rippling through the crowd of gathered monsters. Even Grillby had to stifle a few hiccupping laughs of his own, sparks scattering as he did. Gaster didn't laugh though. His eye sockets were wide with wonder, his whole body leaning in as if he could get a better look at what magic was about to take place before him.

Thetis and Amathea exchanged a glance and a bracing sigh, Thetis stepped back a step, and with a hum of magic Amathea started to sing. Immediately Grillby felt like he was being pulling forward, body and soul, compelled by the magic that reverberated through Amathea's every word as she sang. The ringing, sighing sound of it was breathtaking. Grillby felt like he was falling.

" _Look_ how the light of the town,

The light of the town is shining now

Tonight I'll be dancing around,

I'm off on the road to Galway now…"

Thetis cut in then, her voice springing to life where Amathea's died off. Suddenly the whole world seemed to tilt. Whatever invisible force, gripping and compelling that Amathea's voice made, Thetis' voice seemed to complete it. The shimmer wasn't just an illusion anymore, it was _real_ , as if the air were alive.

"Look how she's off on the town!

She's off on the search for _sailors_ though,

There's fine fellas here to be found,

She's never been one to stay at home!"

The step backwards Thetis had taken before her sister started singing, she pranced forward now. She stepped down hard on her heels, hands planted firmly on her sides as she danced a few steps around her sister.

"Home you'll go and it's there you'll stay,

And you've work to do in the morning!

Give up your dream of going away,

Forget your sailors in Galway!"

They hooked arms then, eyes locked on each other, feet moving in unison, their voices leaping together into a magical harmony. Grillby watched them, mystified and transfixed, feeling very much like he could have been staring through the haze of a dream. Even as their words flew through a language he couldn't recognize, he felt their music tugging at his soul even still. It was a far cry from the stifling feeling that Amathea's normal singing wrapped around his soul. This was something blooming and magnificent, filled with some magic that made him want to burn all the brighter.

"Teir abhaile riu, teir abhaile riu

Teir abhaile riu Mhearai!

Teair abhail gu fan sa bhaile

Mar ta do mhargadh deanta!

Come now, and follow me down!

Down to the lights of Galway where

There's fine sailors walking the town,

And waiting to meet the ladies there."

The two broke apart then, leaping a few short steps away from each other and falling again into that jig of a step Thetis had started with, hands on their sides and smiles on their faces. It was by no means perfect. Here or there one of the sisters' feet fell out of step with the other, their voices paused for longer breaths and their song was peppered with scattered laughter. But there was an enthusiasm and warmth about it even still, something that made it seem perfect enough.

"Watch now! He'll soon be along,

He's finer than any sailor, so

Come on now, pick up your spoons

He's waiting to hear you play them!"

With a shout and a laugh they linked arms again and spun in a dance together. Grillby gave a jolt and a flicker when he realized some of the monsters near him had begun clapping along to the beat they sang. And something was shimmering to life in the air with it, something in the way the bonfire tilted and danced almost in time to the two sisters' dancing.

"Here today and she's _gone_ tomorrow

And next she's going to Galway!

Jiggin' around and off to town

And won't be back until morning!

Teir abhaile riu, teir abhaile riu

Teir abhaile riu Mhearai!

Teir abhail gus fan sa bhaile

Mar ta do mhargadh deanta!"

They broke away from each other again, Amathea stepping back breathlessly as her sister stepped forward. Thetis did a rough little skip and then pitched forward in a mock of a curtsy towards the fire. That feeling of life, _awareness,_ that Grillby noticed suddenly fluttered around him like vertigo, and as Thetis stepped back out of her bow, something _else_ stepped towards her, surging out of the fire with a breath of smoke. Grillby suddenly clenched a hand on Gaster's shoulder, sputtering with amazement. The skeleton returned the gesture with a grin.

"Off with a spring in my step!"

Thetis continued, stepping around this new dance partner she'd made for herself, this creature of fire that returned her bow and stepped in unison beside her.

"The sailors are searching Galway for

A young lady such as myself

For reels and jigs and maybe more

Stay here and never you mind

The lights of the town are blinding you

The sailors they come and they go

But listen to what's reminding you

Handsome men surrounding you

Dancing a reel around you!"

With a laugh Amathea joined the pair, and all three of them were dancing, and Grillby would be lying if he said he could remember the rest of the song. It was around that point that he got… _lost_. There was _so much magic_ in the air it seemed to almost chime like bells around them, consuming every sense and every feeling. It was thick like honey and sent a shiver through his very soul, cast his fire into a mix of confused and overwhelmed colors and left him all the more breathless.

Grillby was even more taken aback in amazement at this creature Thetis seemed to have conjured out of nowhere. He wanted to call it an elemental, he wanted to say it was something like him. There was an obvious life in it, pieced together with magic and flashing scattered colors from its core outwards. But Grillby could tell it seemed incomplete, it lacked any kind of awareness other than the dance Thetis asked of it. It was still beautiful though, and he couldn't take his eyes off it.

Then they were singing the last verse, their voices fading away into an air-shuddering harmony. And as soon as their song came to a close, that flickering creature Thetis had summoned disappeared as if it had never been. The two sisters bowed as their gathered audience whistled and clapped and cheered. Thetis collapsed back into her seat, while Amathea stood and with a grand flourish flipped that elusive gold coin she'd been holding.

"Alright then! Who's next?"

And so it began. Amathea called upon some monster to her right that Grillby couldn't see across the fire. The crowd hushed into excited murmurs as the new monster sang. They knew they couldn't out do the performance that had come before them, and chose to follow the rousing song and dance with a tune about flowers in the mountains. It was short and sweet, and spoke hopefully of a place where "no discord here is found! Harmonious notes make mountains ring!" They earned themselves friendly smiles and polite applause, and then they were flipping the coin and choosing one of the friends they sat beside to sing after them.

Around the circle the singing went, and hardly a single monster was spared the embarrassment - or the excitement - of being picked to sing. Gaster at some point was chosen, and he sang some nonsense song about going to a nonsense town where salmon grew as big as elves and taught themselves to sing. Every verse repeated the enthusiastic jingle _"ri fol latitee o!"_ and by the end of the song Gaster had the monsters around him clapping and repeating those words along with him. The skeleton took just enough time in choosing the next monster to sing to make Grillby nervous - and the whole circle of monsters was shocked when the skeleton pointed out Brigg in the crowd to go next. The dragon monster huffed out a snort of smoke, a smirk curling across his teeth.

The song he sang was in a language Grillby didn't recognize, though he noticed a few of the monsters around the circle nodding and humming along to the tune. Brigg's voice sounded like it was deeper than the earth itself, each word purring through the air like the distant rumble of building thunder. Smoke and the occasional spark curled out from between his teeth as Brigg sang. When asked after he finished, the commander explained that the song came from farther north than even Amathea and Thetis had sailed, a place his family came from ages ago. It whispered about a fair knight and a monster who had asked his hand in marriage, the promises that had been made and the love that was eventually spurned.

The moon was high, the night dark and the fire flickering low when Amathea finally called out that she had enough drink left in her flask for _one last song_. The previous monster who had sung looked down at the coin they'd flipped, then back up at the monsters around the circle who watched them expectantly. With a grin they pointed a clawed hand across the circle.

"Alright then, you're up elemental!"

There were a few scattered whistles and claps around the circle as Grillby was passed the flask and the coin. Grillby stared down at the pair of trinkets that had sealed his fate this evening, flickering every possible shy and embarrassed color he could conjure. There was a long pause where his mind was mostly blank - he hadn't expected… the evening had gone on so long and no one had… he hadn't thought… _but he couldn't sing!_

"Aye well come on then lad, send us off!" Amathea chuckled, pulling Grillby's attention back to the present, "You stayed and listened didn't ya? It's only fair you sing!"

A rousing call of agreement went up around the circle, along with a few more whistles and claps. Gaster gave Grillby an encouraging pat on the back and a playfully whispered, "Come on, live a little firefly!"

Grillby looked around the circle, then back down at the flask and the coin. He heaved out a smoking sigh, then threw back the last of whatever hellish concoction was inside Amathea's flask. It sent a ripple through his core and put a heat in his chest he hadn't been expecting. And it tasted _horrible_. It stung his throat and sat thick as molasses in his mouth before it burned itself out in his flame. As he coughed and sputtered past the drink, another call and round of laughter rippled through the monsters around him - loud enough that it drowned out his pathetic sputtering before most of the monsters could notice.

"Okay… one song," Grillby muttered hoarsely, his voice tight and nervous. Just about every song he knew had been sung once or twice already. All except…

"This is going to be terrible," Grillby whined, sending a soft ripple of laughter through the monsters around him.

Gulping down the nervousness building in his chest, Grillby closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Remember the lyrics, _just remember the lyrics_...

"Well, here goes nothing" the elemental gulped down one last bracing sigh. Hesitantly and haltingly, his voice rough in his throat and soft as the dying fire in front of him, Grillby did his best to sing.

"Of all the money that I ever had,

I spent it in good company…"

A soft, encouraging _woop!_ was shouted to him across the fire at this, and Grillby tried to sing the next line a little louder.

"And all the harm that I've ever done,

Alas, it was to none but me,

And all I've done for want of wit,

To memory now I can't recall,

So fill to me the parting glass,

Goodnight and joy be with you all..."

Grillby paused, taking a breath and willing his mind back to remember the rest of the song. The monsters around him he could feel shifting, some leaning closer so they could actually _hear_ the words he was singing, as soft as they were in the night, as rough they were across his throat.

"Oh all the comrades that ever I've had,

They're sorry for my going away,

And all the sweethearts that ever I've had,

They'd wish me one more day to stay…"

Grillby finally opened his eyes to look at the monsters around him, all silent and intent. Slowly he was wondering if this were a bad idea. This wasn't… a happy song. Not now, after all they'd been through. But the eyes that looked back at him were expectant, and he knew he shouldn't stop.

"But since it falls unto my lot,

That I should rise, and you should not,

I'll gently rise and I'll softly call

Goodnight and joy be with you all…"

Heaven's alive, it was so _quiet_. The monsters around him weren't stirring an inch. There was a heaviness to the air, silent and severe and contemplative. Grillby's voice wobbled, nervous.

"My… dearest dear, the time draws near

When… here… no longer I can stay…

There's not a comrade I leave behind

But is grieving for my going away

But… since it has so ordered been…

What is once past can't be… recalled,

Now fill to me the parting glass,

Goodnight… and joy be with you all,"

Well, he was too deep in it now to quit, even if he had ruined the evening. Grillby focused his gaze on his feet, prayed his voice stayed steady enough to finish. He tried to ignore the weighted feeling that had descended upon them, tried to stamp out the creeping nervousness that kept crawling with bitter claws through his stomach. Or was that just the bad taste from the alcohol talking?

"A man may drink and not be drunk,

A man may fight and not be slain,

A man may court-" Grillby managed a quiet chuckle, and a few other monsters chucked with him - "A pretty girl,

And perhaps be welcomed back again,

But since it has so ordered been

By a time to rise and a time to fall

Come fill to me the parting glass,

Goodnight and joy be with you all…"

For as soft and faltering a singer Grillby was, the last words he sang still hung in the air as if they were pinned there by magic. He figured it was an illusion made up by the stillness that had fallen over the group, but he could never be sure. What he did realize was all eyes were still on him, and when he looked bashfully down at his hands to escape the watchful glances, he realized he was turning in all sorts of colors. He blinked down at his arms, watching as every spiraling color he'd ever known himself to be slowly faded away, washed out with the softer yellows and greens of his surprise and nervousness.

It was Gaster who finally broke the silence.

"And you said you can't sing, ha!" he smirked, giving Grillby a congratulatory slap on the back, "That was _fine_."

Grillby chuckled, and as he did the air was peppered with the scattered and muted laughter of monsters nearby. Most of the looks around were thoughtful, reverent. Remembering. Grillby could see it in the looks friends exchanged, how a few of them started whispering to each other names Grillby had never known. The names of monsters who weren't there. The names of monsters who were gone. It was with these thoughts and names on their lips and teeth that the monsters finally dispersed, shouting good-nights and goodbyes as they wandered back to their tents. A few hummed tunes as they went, a few others began reviving their previous dandy moods to laugh about the other songs sung. But most of them looked back at Grillby, still hearing that final _goodnight and joy be to you all_ as it turned invisible in the air.

Grillby noticed Amathea and Thetis talking, Amathea walking her sister back to her tent before they said goodbye for the evening. And as they left he was sure he heard the names of their brothers muttered back and forth, one bringing back to memory some adventure they had all had together. The elemental watched them as they disappeared behind some tent, and with a quiet sigh and a flicker he decided… maybe… it hadn't been such a bad song to sing.

He and Gaster were settled down in the tent before Amathea got back. When Grillby fell asleep, Gaster was sitting close beside him, laughing quietly about the music that had been shared as he worked on moving and repairing cords in his soul. Grillby fell asleep to the softly churning blues and purples of Gaster's soul and the skeletons hushed talking. That night Grillby slept dreamlessly.

He awoke to the sound of hoof beats jolting their way through camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rawr and now for the massive amount of research for this chapter!
> 
> Uhm, you guys will be disappointed to know I dropped the ball a bit with this chapter. I got some really good suggestions that were a tad too modern to actually exist in this time period but uhh, I used them anyway!
> 
> The first song here is Teir Abhaile Riu by Celtic Woman and was requested by Meerkatgirl13 here on AO3 (I'd recommend looking it up! It's good music!). It matches the sisters well, as well as the dance-y feel I wanted to start the singing out with, which is why I chose it. Though it's pretty obviously made after the medieval ages :'D Still! Good song!
> 
> The second song is just mentioned in passing, but it is a Welsh folksong called Flowers of the Heath. The picture it paints is beautiful!
> 
> _The violet and the primrose too_  
>  Beneath a sheltering thorny bough  
> In bright and lively colours blow  
> And cast sweet fragrance round.  
> Where beds of thyme in clusters lay  
> The heath rose opens its eyes in May  
> And cowslips, too, their sweets display  
> Upon the heathy ground. 
> 
> Ugh. So. Pretty. It's just a two-stanza ditty about the mountains in the summer. I don't actually have any confirmed print dates for this song! Probably should've researched it a bit more. I know it is at least as old as the 1600's, and was probably passed by word of mouth since before then.
> 
> The song Gaster sings is and English folksong, As I was Going to Banbury, and it is mostly nonsense ahaha. I'm serious here's some lines:
> 
> _And one of the salmon as big as I_  
>  Ri fol latitee O  
> And one of the salmon as big as I  
> Now do you not think I am telling a lie?  
> With a ri fol latitee O 
> 
> _And one of the salmon as big as an elf_  
>  Ri fol latitee O  
> And one of the salmon as big as an elf -  
> If you want any more you must sing it yourself  
> With a ri fol latitee O 
> 
> It's first print was published in the 1800's, and the song is actually a variant of a much older song called uh... Tom Tell Truth, which was first published in the 1500's.
> 
> Brigg's song is Herr Mannelig, which is a Finnish(?) folk song. I looked up a version of it on the Youtubes. It sounds soooooooooo preeeeeeetty. That one was requested by Garessta on DA! And I need to get it for my ipod yesh.
> 
> The last song is The Parting Glass, a very well-known Irish/Scottish folk song made famous by William Cole. The version here is the modern version of the song, which first started getting popular around the 1800's. The derivatives of the song stretch back until the 1500's I believe (I need to check my sources again whoops), and have gone through dozens of changes over the years (which is to be expected). Seriously, the previous song is almost unrecognizable (my favorite version of the modern song is by The Wailin' Jennies, it's not the one I used, but seriously give it a listen). This song always makes me cry ahaha. My sister has told me already when she dies she wants it played at her funeral, and now it's hard not to think of that... while listening... the feels are strong with this song.
> 
> I was also seriously considering ending with Ammy and Thetis singing Auld Lang Sine, even did the research and everything for it. But in the end I didn't think the scenario I had for it's use would add much to the chapter. Plus this thing was 5400 words already, and I had originally ballparked it as a 3000 word chapter, which is actually why it's late. Because it was much longer than I wanted it to be XD
> 
> Another song that didn't end up making the cut was Nil Se'n La, and Ammy was going to sing it to start things off until Teir Abhaile Riu was brought to my attention.
> 
> Hmm... am I forgetting anything? Oh yeah! I know I've mentioned it before but yes rosemary was supposed to ward off nightmares. Along with half a dozen other herbs in Europe. Yes it would've still been growing in the fall, though it probably would've been hard to find without it's blooms. The stuff Gaster bought was probably dried out.
> 
> Aaaaaaaaaand if you read all of this you deserve an award holy shit.


	38. There Once Was A Bridge By A Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which something's happening that's making everyone nervous and only Thetis seems to know anything about it.

It wasn’t the sound of the hoof beats that made Grillby nervous. In fact, outside of the annoyance of them waking him up, he didn’t much care they were there. He wasn’t even worried by the fact that the galloping sound had jolted him awake in the middle of the night, he could tell from the darkness in the tent and the drowsy feeling in his soul that it was well before dawn. He flickered bitterly at this revelation. The day was going to be difficult if he was running on little sleep.

No, what made him nervous, the thing that sent and anxious shiver through his core and a green tint to his flame, was that whoever was riding the horse was _yelling_. And although the distance and the tremor in the monster’s voice distorted the words past Grillby’s comprehension, he could still tell by their tone that whatever had them riding through in the middle of the night was urgent. _This_ was what kept the elemental from simply rolling over and trying to fall back to sleep. This is what prompted him to stand and stretch and stumble over to Amathea - who was still snoring away quite soundly - and gently nudge her awake. The commander awoke confused and a bit startled, pulling herself to her feet in an instant.

“What wrong?” she yawned.

The cry of the monster answered for Grillby before he could form a sentence to speak. Amathea’s ear frills twitched and she leaned around Grillby to look out the tent, as if this could somehow tell her more about what was going on. After a pause she started walking, flipping through her inventory as she went and equipping her armor, magic slowly crackling to life in the air around her.

“Any idea what’s going on?” Grillby asked with an apprehensive flicker.

Amathea shook her head, pausing long enough in the doorway of the tent to say, “Don’t know. But I’ll find out soon enough. Wake up Gaster and get ready. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

Then she disappeared into the night, her running footsteps fading in the direction of the urgent shouting. Grillby did as he was told, nudging the sleeping skeleton awake and explaining what little he knew about what was going on. With muttered complaining Gaster let himself be pulled to his feet. He didn’t seem nearly as concerned with what was going on as Grillby or Amathea were - but then again, he was also swaying on his feet, eye sockets half closed, as if he could fall right back asleep again where he was standing. If Grillby weren’t so tense, he would’ve found it funny.

Amathea must have made it to whatever monster was causing the commotion, because the shouting abruptly stopped - though not before the rest of the camp started stirring, monsters grumbling and crawling into wakefulness as curiosity and worry kept them from sleeping again. A few of them were even starting to emerge from tents when Gaster and Grillby started jogging their way past, both with armor equipped - even if Gaster’s was a bit disheveled in his tiredness. The night air was cool and Grillby could smell a building moisture in it. When he looked up he shuddered at the mass of grey that hung in thin sheets above him. Apparently rain was coming. The elemental suppressed a shudder.

Whatever part of Gaster was awake gave Grillby a reassuring sign, “I doubt it’ll do more than drizzle.”

Grillby managed a nervous flicker in return.

When they found Amathea she, Brigg, and another commander Grillby didn’t recognize were standing around a thin and disheveled goat-esque monster. The horse they’d rode in on was being led away already, the poor beast sweating and exhausted, head hung low as it was nudged towards food and water. The goat monster was speaking fast and panicked, voice hoarse and shuddering as they gave some speech to the circled commanders. The tone in their voice was practically begging.

“ _Please_ , if we don’t get some sort of help soon they’ll dust the entire unit, or _worse_!” they pleaded, “They’ve been capturing monsters out there! They’ll take the entire unit back somewhere, gods know what they’re doing to them! You have to-”

“Take it easy, lad,” Amathea interrupted, her voice low and measured, calming, “We’ll not leave your beastie unit out to dust if we don’t have to. But you’ve got to understand our position here. If what you say is true, they’re more than a day, maybe two, march away. Carrying wounded? They’ll likely be taken by what’s chasing them before we even get there. And we’ll risk leading the humans following them back here.”

The monster’s ears lay back against their head, their look some mix between hopeless and indignant, “You’ve got to _try!_ ”

Amathea huffed out a sigh and opened her mouth to reply something, but stopped when she noticed Grillby and Gaster. She gave them a long-suffering sigh, “Glad you two boys showed up!”

The monster before her flinched at the suddenly loudness of her voice. They blinked at Grillby and Gaster, eyes wide and pitiful.

“Get sir Mavin here some food and some healing,” she ordered, and the elemental nodded, “Meanwhile we’ll figure something out.”

Amathea scowled as she turned to walk off, “And someone find Thetis! I _need_ her.”

The three commanders took refuge in a large tent near the wall. Grillby recognized the flag as a command tent. Wordlessly he waved for the disheveled goat monster to follow him towards it. There were a few soldiers’ tents shortly beside it, and a fire pit ready to be worked with. Grillby got busy lighting it while Gaster got to work checking the monster’s stats and making sure they were intact. Grillby pulled out a few cooking supplies from his inventory, looking up every so often at the command tent to see if anyone had come out yet - they hadn’t. Though he did notice Thetis slip inside at one point.

What did Thetis _do_ that made her so important to have at a meeting between the commanders? Grillby made up his mind to ask her the next time he had the chance.

“Alright, you’re all good,” Gaster sighed from across the fire.

Mavin shot him what should have been an annoyed look, but the monster looked just a tad bit too pathetic and nervous for that sort of thing to hold any weight. Instead he just looked scared, and maybe mildly inconvenienced.

“I _know_ I’m f-fine,” they muttered, “My _unit_ isn’t. You should be h-helping them before it’s too late!”

Gaster held his hands up in a sort of helpless, placating motion, “Hey I don’t give orders. I take them. The commanders are figuring things out. Just give them time.”

“We don’t have time.”

Gaster shrugged to this but said nothing. He realized there was nothing he could do, and he seemed either too tired or too resigned to this to care - though from the way he slouched over, head cupped in his hands sleepily, Grillby was pretty sure it was the former. The elemental himself couldn’t help but flicker at the monster sympathetically. He didn’t rightly know what mess his unit was in, but he could still understand the monster’s distress. He didn’t… really know what to say though. He didn’t have any comfort to give. So instead Grillby focused on the only thing he _did_ know to do right now, which was making breakfast. It took a little time, and once or twice he had to go run after some ingredient or another that he didn’t have, but he had a nice broth cooked up soon enough.

Grillby made a little more than he usually did, offering it apologetically to the monsters whose fire pit they were using.  They accepted it with a bit of surprise, but were overall grateful. One commented as they left about how much better it was than the food they’d been eating before, which dragged some snickers from his friends. Gaster took a hearty serving, and finally started waking up a bit as he ate. Grillby had to wonder how much sleep the skeleton had actually gotten in.

Mavin looked down at his bowl, eyeing the soup in silent confusion before finally looking up at Grillby and saying, “Aren’t you an elemental?”

Grillby paused halfway through taking a drink of his own breakfast. He blinked at the monster questioningly.  Had this monster never seen an elemental before? It seemed unlikely, they’d fled from a battlefront somewhere hadn’t they?

“Uhm… yes. Yes I am.”

Mavin frowned, “Why are you here?”

Grillby sparked in a nervous chuckle, “Well I could’ve asked Gaster to cook, but I can assure you the food wouldn’t have been edible.”

Gaster snorted a muffled laugh into his bowl at this. Mavin ignored him.

“Yes but you’re a _fire elemental_. Why aren’t you on the front lines?”

All humor Grillby had before dropped away in a heartbeat, and before he could stop himself his flame was rippling in bitter and fretful shades of purple and blue. He hadn’t even managed to form a sentence when Gaster was answering for him. His hands were still cupped stubbornly around his bowl so he couldn’t sign. There was a certain bite at the end of his tone that Grillby barely registered.

“Because elementals get exhausted and wounded just as much as the rest of us,” Gaster said curtly, shooting the monster a withering glare, “He’s a monster, not a war machine.”

To Mavin’s credit, they seemed genuinely confused by Gaster’s reaction. Or at least, confused by how much venom had been in his voice when he’d spoke. Grillby decided, hesitantly, that the monster probably hadn’t worked with an elemental before - or at least, they hadn’t worked closely with one. Monsters working on rumors and hearsay tended to expect too much of any strong monster, elementals or otherwise.

As the three monsters settled into an awkward silence, it started to drizzle. The rain came in a mist so thin and light Grillby had hardly realized it had started, but when he _did_ notice, he suddenly felt sick with nervousness. It was a force of will just to keep from dashing to the nearest piece of cover. The elemental slowly slipped his hood over the top of his head, trying to take comfort in the little bit of shelter it provided. This was silly, he told himself. Drizzle _never_ hurt him. It always seemed to evaporate before it could get close to his core, and the bit of it that he did feel only ever felt like a mild discomfort, a subtle itch across his head and neck.

It was another hour before Amathea and her sister emerged from the tent, followed shortly by the other commanders. But when she emerged she stormed towards them with a purpose, a look of intent etched across her face. Thetis walked just behind her, looking every bit as stern as her sister did.

“Gaster,” Amathea barked, startling the skeleton out of the short doze he’d wandered into, “How well can you ride a horse?”

Gaster blinked at her for a minute before saying cautiously, “Well, I don’t fall off every three steps but I wouldn’t call myself an expert either.”

“Good enough,” the commander smirked, kneeling beside him and pulling a map from her inventory. She traced a path along the surface with her finger, “I need you to run a message here. You’re looking for a unit of about fifty monsters. Tell them we’ll be meeting them here -” from where Grillby sat he could just make out a line he assumed was a river.

Amathea shot the skeleton a stern look, “There are humans following them south. If they catch up to you before you can meet us, cut and run.”

Gaster blinked at her, confused, “But… I can help.”

“Aye sure you can,” Amathea glanced a sideways look to Thetis, “But if what we’re hearing is true, they’re catching monsters for something. And yours is a kind of magic we can’t do without. Honestly lad, I wouldn’t be sending you at all, but out of us you’ll probably get there the fastest.”

Gaster nodded, “Alright. If things go south, where do I find you?”

The two of them spent a few minutes discussing alternative routes and back-up plans before Gaster finally dashed off. Before he was even out of sight Amathea was waving for Grillby and Mavin to follow her.

“Alright tinderbox,” Amathea said quickly, “Still know how to steal fire away from things?”

“Yeah,” Grillby said with a confused flicker, “I couldn’t forget that if I tried.”

“Good,” the commander nodded, “I’ll pack up the tent. You go around, get every fire you see and ignore any monster that complains about it. The stronger you are the better.”

The elemental paused, on the verge of asking a question. What was going on? Why the urgency? But Amathea had already turned and started relaying further orders to Thetis, rattling off names of monsters she needed and what supplies they should get put together in the time they had. Grillby took it as a sign to get moving and ask questions later. They had a walk ahead of them; he had time to find out.

Grillby managed to yell safe travels to Gaster as he galloped out of camp.

Grillby dashed around camp, collecting fire into his soul and dodging the confused and annoyed looks some monsters gave him as he did. By the time the pieced together unit made its way out of the encampment, Grillby’s soul was tense with magic and his flame was cast in a permanent yellow-white. He slid in step beside Amathea as they marched towards the north.

<hr />

The march they walked at was stiff and fast, an air of rush and urgency hanging over them like the drizzle that seemed to follow them across the countryside. Grillby was thankful it was _only_ drizzle. The walk didn’t afford them much time to talk. Amathea was too focused on keeping them moving quickly and in the right direction, Thetis sometimes correcting her sister on their position and timing.

It wasn’t until evening when the footsore unit of monsters stopped to rest for the evening that the drizzle finally stopped - the moisture in the air coating the countryside in a smothering fog as the night moved on. They started few fires and set up only the bare minimum to sleep with. They would need to move with all speed in the morning, and wouldn’t have the luxury in the morning of cooking or repacking their supplies. As Amathea settled in for the night, Grillby finally got the chance to ask what they were out there for.

“To put it simply, we’re just staging a rescue mission,” Amathea hummed, pulling that map of hers back out of her inventory and ushering for Grillby to come closer to see it, “Assuming all goes well - which it might _not_ \- Gaster and the unit we’re picking up are going to meet us here.”

She tapped a clawed finger against the map beside a river. There were a few lines drawn over it, and she explained, “The river is deep here. The only way to cross is by this bridge. Used to be a crossing for merchants before the war killed off the trade around here. From what Thetis says, the bridge is in pretty rough shape right about now.”

Grillby tried to swallow down the nervous feeling that had started to creep through his soul.

“Plan is to get the monsters fleeing south across and then take out the bridge after them,” Amathea said, folding the map back up into her inventory, “Normally we wouldn’t go out of our way for something like this. But apparently the humans are taking monsters now. We’re not quite sure why yet, but we’re thinking it has something to do with the loss of the western front.”

Grillby nodded, flame twisting as much as it could into anxious greens, “But why would they want monsters for anything?”

Amathea shrugged, “Your guess is as good as mine lad. But Thetis seems to think these monsters will give us some answers, so it looks like we’re stuck saving their sorry hides.”

Grillby flickered questioningly as Amathea made herself as comfortable as possible on the ground. Before she could drift off to sleep he finally asked.

“What does Thetis _do_?”

Amathea smirked.

“I mean… it sounds like everything you know about this is from her.”

“Aye of course it is,” Amathea chuckled, “Thetis works with the ghosts collecting information, doesn’t she?”

Grillby gave a bewildered spark. _What?_ But didn’t that kind of intelligence work involve a lot of tact and discretion and…? Things he wouldn’t exactly include Thetis in having? Well, she was _smart_. She had the same mind for maps and planning that Amathea seemed to have. But...

Amathea gave a soft chuckle at the confused colors turning through Grillby’s flame, “You know I didn’t much believe it either. But I tell you what, that lass has the strongest illusion magic I’ve ever seen in my life. That’s a fair bit helpful when you’re doing things like tricking humans and sneaking up on poor monsters just trying to have a nice conversation before bed, _Thetis_.”

Grillby gave a surprised jolt as Thetis’ uproarious laughter sounded right behind him. Then the fish monster was plopping down beside him, the air shivering just slightly as whatever magic she’d been holding dropped away.

“You’re no fun, Am,” she grinned.

“How long have you been _standing there?_ ” Grillby sparked incredulously, and Thetis let out another loud laugh.

“About halfway through your talking,” she beamed, puffing out her chest and ear frills pridefully, “Didn’t even hear me coming did you? I’m pretty damn good at this whole sneaking business!”

She turned her attention back to Amathea then, smile lilting into something sterner, “I checked ahead along the road. Nothing but open country and fog for the next few miles. We should make the bridge by noon tomorrow.”

“Figured out how you’re getting us out of there yet?” Amathea raised an eyebrow questioningly, “Half a unit of monsters can’t defend a bridge for long.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Thetis’ smile writhed back across her teeth, cold and cunning, “You just focus on turning that bridge into a pile of nothing. By the time my spell comes over, those humans won’t know sea from sky until they’re fallin’ into it. And you better bet they won’t be tracking us down either!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First week back at college rawr. I'm exhausted. I really really just wanna curl up on the floor and sleep. Holy frick-a-frack. Maybe I should go get some coffee.
> 
> It's gonna be a loooooong day
> 
> Anywho! Action's starting to kick back up again. It's gonna start and keep going I think. 80% of the scenes I have planned out for the rest of this story are all action/battlefield/angst&pain based ones. Whoops.


	39. The Frozen Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we run into some trouble of the ice-sort  
> And since when was Grillby in charge?

The fog of the night before seemed to linger about them as the morning passed - thick and heavy and smothering. It left a clinging moisture on the ground and cast the world in muffling shades of grey and blue. Even as the sun started warming the morning the fog persisted, dragging it's colorless cloak across the landscape and slicking the ground with droplets of dew in it's wake. It was a strange and eerie sort of beautiful, something insidious and smothering but mystifying as well. It spun Grillby's mind around, made him feel lost and isolated even amidst the small army nearby him. It was as if some ghostly creature had wrapped it's great, silvery arms around him, muffling his sense of direction and making even his judgement cloudy. The world felt sluggish and somber, the quiet broken only by the shuffling of footsteps and murmurs from the monsters behind him.

It was like this that they found the bridge, and Grillby's soul hitched in his chest when he saw it. The thing was barely wide enough for four monsters to walk side-by-side. It was long, snake-like and arching, coming to a rounded peak halfway across the churning river below it before gently descending to rest on the other side in a haphazard stone heap. The bridge itself seemed ancient, the corbelled stone that made it was cracked and weathered, creeping vines and weeds clinging to it's sides, swaying from beneath it. Some of these even twisted and crept their way across the road of the bridge itself, as if slowly yet surely the earth itself intended to rend it apart. There were no walls, no guard to keep a monster from simply tumbling off the side. There was nothing to keep Grillby's eyes from wandering to the water that ran fast and unhindered beneath the fragile shield of stone, nor the damning height he would have to fall to even break the water's surface.

The bridge was nothing short of a nightmare. Judging by the anxious whispering of the monsters that followed behind him, Grillby wasn't the only one who thought so.

The moment they arrived Amathea began barking orders, her voice echoing and breaking across the shrouded world around them. A number of monsters were led to each side of the bridge. One side was instructed to act as backup should something happen to the monsters that would be _on the bridge itself_. The other side was to await a certain signal before attacking the bridge from the bottom, breaking it down so no one else could get across.

Amathea waved the remainder with her - Grillby included, "Alright lads, the rest of you join me up here!"

Grillby walked beside the commander until her first step onto the stone of the bridge, repeating to himself over and over, _you can do this, it's just a bridge. It's stronger than it looks. It will not fall. You will be fine. You will be-_

When Amathea took her first step onto the cracked stonework, Grillby stopped abruptly. His eyes were locked on the grit at his feet, his soul shuddered and twisted in his chest, his breathing jagged and wisping with smoke. For a few moments he just stood there, a tremor running through his core, rooted to the spot with fear. It was just long enough for Amathea to realize her last few steps were walked alone, for her to turn around to glance back at him. It was just long enough for the monsters following him to hesitate for a second as well.

 _Just go_ , he begged himself, _Just move just go. Take a step. Just walk. You won't die. You won't fall. Just -_

Amathea opened her mouth to say something - and then Grillby was taking a step forward and walking. He managed to tear his gaze away from the cobbles at his feet and fix Amathea in a hardened and desperate sort of stare. He knew the minute he looked away he'd be looking back at the water again, and if he did that he wouldn't be able to move. The sound of it was _so loud_ it could have been inches away from his feet. The smell of it, the taste of the moisture that hung in the air, every bit of it clouded his senses. It wrapped its presence around him like some malevolent spirit, some foul and seething intent that wanted nothing more than to did its freezing fingers through his core and tear him apart in its current.

The bitter tightness in his soul from the fires he had eaten didn't help. If anything it made him feel _worse._ It convinced him he was even less comfortable in his own skin than he already was. It made his panic that much more intense. It made every movement feel so much more foreign and unnatural. He felt like he was smothering in his own body.

Grillby fell in step beside Amathea, his gaze reaching past her and out to the far side of the bridge, it's end just visible through the milky fog. Nothing on the other side was really coming into focus though. Shapes across the way were starting to blur together, tilt into each other. On the edges of his vision he could see small lights starting to form, swimming around there like multicolored fireflies. In his daze it took him a moment to register that Amathea was muttering something. It wasn't until the third time she'd repeated it that he realized she was whispering something along the lines of - " _Breathe_ tinderbox, _breathe_."

Grillby sucked in a quiet gasp, suddenly realizing the tightening feeling in his throat and chest were because he was forgetting that one basic, _very important_ thing - breathing. The lights cleared from his vision instantly, even though the shuddering and nervous feeling in his core stayed. His senses were flooded with wet and cold, the smell and taste of the water in the air burning at his insides. But he forced himself to keep breathing.

Breath by breath. Step by step. Grillby walked his way beside Amathea to the center of the bridge. It was there that Amathea stopped him, speaking to him in a low voice, stern and quiet. Back on the safety of the bank, Grillby knew, the two probably looked as though they were discussing something important, necessary to whatever plan Amathea had put together. No one could tell that the colors Grillby was flickering, the rippling yellows whites and greens, were from his panic. No one could hear Amathea as she spoke to him like a child, her voice drowning out somewhere between the distance and the sound of the river beneath his feet.

"You're alright, tinderbox," she hummed, "This is all the farther you've got to go. You're okay."

"I know," his voice was so quiet it was almost gone.

"I need my strongest monsters up here," she reasoned with him quietly, "In case we have to defend the bridge. You're the strongest monster I have."

"I know," Grillby breathed, his voice a shudder but just barely louder.

"A retreat will be called long before this bridge is in any danger of collapsing. I'll not let you fall, I swear on my life. You can trust me, tinderbox."

"I know I can."

Amathea gave him a searching look, watching as the feverish pitching in his flame tapered just slightly. Listened as his breathing became a little more controlled.

"You'll not run off on me if you get scared will you?" Amathea asked, her voice low and stern, "Think hard on that tinderbox. If you run, these monsters will run with you, you understand that right?"

Grillby nodded.

"They're scared too. Not nearly as much as you I'm sure," she said gently, "And if they see the strongest thing here running, they'll panic. That'll get monsters killed, you know that."

The elemental nodded again. He gulped down a heavy breath, "I… I can stay."

There was a pause, and then a little steadier he managed, "I _will_ stay."

Amathea caught him in that searching look one last time before finally deciding he could be trusted. Then she started explaining her plan - a thing that was ultimately short and sweet and, in theory, easy enough to execute. She was leaving Grillby and the handful of monsters she'd picked on the bridge itself. They would be split in two groups, standing crowded on the edges of the bridge - Grillby shuddered - in order to let the coming monsters pass. In a perfect world where the unit they were saving had plenty of distance between them and their pursuers, Grillby would then lead his monsters off the bridge and from a safe distance the thing would be turned to rubble. If not, however, they would be forced to close ranks and fight on the rugged stonework, keeping the humans at a distance with ranged attacks while Amathea and the monsters she'd chosen for herself beat away at the bridge from below. She'd call a retreat when the bridge was knocked away enough, and they'd collapse it beneath their enemy's feet.

The whole idea made Grillby's soul shudder, made his panic mount a little more in his chest. But his only choices here were fighting on the bridge itself or helping beneath it. And as terrified as he felt suspended in the air as he was, he'd couldn't imagine working _right beside_ the roaring water. This way as well, he was less likely to douse himself when the rocks started falling and splashing water through the air. Maybe this was for the best.

Still. Suspended as he was over his own demise this way… Grillby couldn't stomp down the dizzy fear that kept washing over him in waves. It abated slowly with time as the morning wore on, only to to come shuddering back to the forefront of his mind when his eyes wandered too much. When an unfamiliar jolt vibrated the stones beneath his feet. When some monster to his left or right made one comment or another about the lack of walls or rail work to keep them from falling.

It took a while for Grillby to realize Amathea had left him in charge of half the unit, and that suddenly he wasn't just another foot soldier taking orders. It was about the time this observation busted it's way through his panic that hoofbeats sounded down the road ahead of them. The dark blur on the foggy horizon slowly refocused itself into Gaster's horse, the skeleton leaning into the beast's strides as it raced towards them. Gaster halted the creature on the bridge shortly before the waiting monsters, swinging down smoothly from the saddle and onto the stony bridgework. He beamed at Grillby.

"Fancy meeting you here stranger," he chuckled, before casting his gaze back to where Thetis was jogging towards him, "Where's Ammy?"

Grillby still didn't trust himself to speak. His throat was too tight with nervousness. But Thetis was almost immediately by his side, and the monster was answering for him.

"She's down below with some monsters, working on taking this bridge apart," - Grillby stopped breathing for a second as she said this, "How far behind you are the others?"

"Not much," Gaster shrugged, "Just over the hill back there. And there's humans hot on their tail. So whatever you've got planning, better make it quick."

Thetis chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully before turning to walk back where she'd come, "Alright. Grillby, make sure you and your monsters don't go any farther than the middle of the bridge."

Grillby nodded. _His_ monsters. Oh boy. _Why had Amathea left him in charge?_

"Gaster grab your beastie. You're back here with me!"

The skeleton let out an exasperated sign, "Wait what? But… but I can help up here!"

Thetis paused on the bridge long enough to shake her head at him and frown, "Trust me Gaster, you'll do more harm than good. If those humans are capturing monsters, it's weird magic-users like you that'll be useful to them most. Besides, when those monsters come across they'll be needing a doctor."

Gaster scowled. For a few seconds he looked like he might argue further. But after a pause and then a frustrated sigh, the skeleton turned to Grillby and gave the elemental a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Don't die, Grillby."

"I'll try my best not to," Grillby managed to say back. His voice smoked and writhed in his throat, gruff and anxious, and he hoped he didn't sound too pitiful to the monsters around him.

If Gaster noticed it he didn't let on about it. The skeleton crossed back over to his horse and with a stubborn sort of glare in Thetis's direction he lead the beast across the river, picking his way slowly and carefully so he didn't accidentally send some monster tumbling off the side. It was not long after Gaster crossed that the monsters they were waiting for came into sight in the distance - first as weaving shapes in the fog and finally as actual monsters when they approached. And they were _running_. Grillby could see no humans among them, but from the franticness in their run he knew they were close behind.

The elemental drew his sword and slid his shield onto his arm. Behind him he could hear the apprehensive shuffling as other monsters did the same. Grillby closed his eyes for a moment and breathed, gagging on the taste of the water in the air and the sickening smell of damp and cool. When he opened his eyes again the first monsters were running past him, down through the aisle that ran between the two flanks of monsters on the bridge. As they passed him Grillby noticed some of the monsters were wounded, grasping at roughly bandaged arms and sides, limping as quickly as their legs could carry them. One whimsalot only made it across because he was being carried between the wings of two others.

The first few humans came into sight. And then a few more, weaving in and out of the fog and scattered foliage that vanished into the milky grey ahead of them. The last of the monsters staggered their way across the bridge then, and Grillby gave the shouted order for them to close ranks on the bridge. Behind him now the monsters stood side-by-side, three to a row, only allowing themselves enough room to strike forward or move back. Grillby was just a step ahead of them, fire keening into ever brightening whites.

There were more humans pouring into sight. More than Grillby had expected to be coming after such a small unit of monsters. The ones that had been leading the group were already slowing down, realizing the threat on the bridge was too much to handle alone. They stopped on the far bank of the river, waiting as their ranks reamassed. Grillby scanned his eyes across them. There was easily a hundred warriors there, maybe more. They were tired - both from the run that morning and from the long marches they'd been forced into while follow the monsters south as they had. And already they were wary of the bridge.

The problem with bridges was simply that, no matter how outnumbered one side was over the other, on a bridge they were forced to fight as if neither had the upperhand. There was only so much room to move, only so many creatures could stand side-by-side. And here the humans were at a clear disadvantage - monster magic was reaching and ranged. They could attack from a distance. The humans only had the distance of their swords and lances. Bowmen were a little more evenly matched, but with the fog as it was, they would be hard-pressed to hit the target they were aiming for.

And then of course, fighting an elemental was a problem to be avoided.

A human detached itself from the army before them, and with prideful steps they approached the bridge alone. They were dressed like a common soldier, their garb a mixture of chainmail and cloth, their only sign of worth being in the crest sewn into the chest of their tunic. But instead of a sword, they carried a short staff with some small and glowing jewel notched into it's top. Well, if this were a mage, it was certainly the most humble one Grillby had ever seen. And while he couldn't feel magic or intent in the air around them like he had in mages before, the confidence with which this human carried themselves put the elemental on edge - well, more so than he already was.

It was by this human's command that the ranks behind them began to march forward. Grillby's soul twisted in his chest. The mage and her men stepped on to the bridge, and as she came the mage threw forward a spell. But the attack didn't come from before him. Grillby _felt_ more than he actually _saw_ the monsters behind him all seemed to flinch. It was like the entire rank of them staggered a step to the left. Grillby lifted up a wall of fire, the white-hot blaze leaping up to crash into a wall of water summoned up from the river beneath them. The two met in an explosion of air and steam.

Then the humans were running across the bridge. Beneath Grillby's feet, he could feel a larger vibration, a hum light magic that rippled through his core. He knew Amathea's monsters were getting hard at work, weakening the bridge structure beneath them so when the time came, they could escape. Grillby cast his gaze forward, fire blazing, a writhing magic building in his chest. A row of his lances flickered to life in the air around him.

"Ready magic!" Grillby shouted behind him, and the air sprang to life with intent, a building volley churning the air like a storm. Every possible magic gathered, attacks of all shapes and sizes all flickering with bright colors and hungry intent. Grillby held them for a moment, waiting for the humans to dash a few steps closer. He locked his glare on the mage that rushed forward, the human's mouth set in a challenging sort of frown, her own magic flaring to life.

"Fire!"

The bridge shuddered into chaos.

The first volley of magic crashed into the oncoming humans like a hammer against an anvil. Soldiers staggered and fell. Some tumbled over the edges of the bridge, screaming into the roiling water below. Grillby shuddered when he heard them, when he watched one or another of the wretched creatures disappear over the edge to their graves below. An insidious voice whispered to him, _soon that might be you_. He did his best to ignore the thought. They hadn't caused nearly enough havoc yet to call this battle done. He needed to concern himself with the mage.

She was still running forward, her soldiers were still coming with her. Some staggered over wounded comrades, others were wounded themselves. But they were still coming. And the air was humming with that foul human magic, and Grillby was raising his shield to answer it. But she didn't shout a spell. Even as magic surged to life around her, she didn't utter a single syllable, and the magic she hit him with was like none Grillby had ever seen from any human mage he'd ever met.

The ground was suddenly torn apart by lances not unlike Amathea's spears. They ripped out of the stonework, stabbing up from the ground in a wave right towards the elemental. They shattered themselves apart against a protective wall of flame. The second these abated a volley came smashing down from the air, a needle-like sheet of glimmering ice that fell from the sky like a hail of darts. Grillby lifted his shield above his head, bracing himself as the hailstorm crashed into the metal and shattered like glass.

This was _monster magic_. Grillby couldn't understand why it was being used against him. How could this human use it? Human magic always worked through incantations and spells. How was this mage summoning attacks? _How was this mage fighting like a monster?_

Grillby flickered a scowl and with a shout raised a wall of flame, sending it surging towards the mage and her men. The human shouted a spell, staff flickering manic colors. The wave of flame parted for her and she continued forward. The men behind her weren't so lucky. Grillby took a daring step forward, ready to race forward to meet her - and then stopped. He couldn't leave the center of the bridge. When the bridge fell apart, this is where it would split.

He couldn't get trapped on the wrong side. _Or worse_. Be sucked through the cracks in the stones as the whole thing fell apart.

Grillby braced up his shield against his shoulder and called for another volley of magic to be thrown. In answer the mage screamed another incantation, and this time the water rose on both sides of them. It towered like walls, the foamed tops of the gigantic waves circling inward as they began to crash down. Grillby didn't have enough time to panic. He responded with an answering wall of flame, the massiveness of it painful in his soul. Again the walls of fire and water slammed into each other. Again they erupted into a plume of steam and harmless spray. Grillby didn't realize he'd held his breath until he was letting it out again in a sigh so deep he almost fell to his knees.

What even _was_ this mage? For some creature so unassuming, they sure had some powerful magic.

The last volley Grillby's monsters - oh he wasn't going to get used to _that_ anytime soon - had sent forward was enough to break the humans' charge, and now the shattered army slowed their headlong rush and regrouped at a steady march. Some of them seemed desperate enough to flee, but with the press of bodies from the rest of the army behind them, their only freedom lay in carving through the monsters or leaping off the bridge itself. Grillby instructed his monsters to prepare to fire again, and readied his own lances as well.

If the humans were smart, they would flee - and that wasn't just Grillby's wishful thinking either. Already the struggle they would have to face to get to their quarry was turning out to be a brutal one. But that mage… there was a fire in her daring eyes that said she wasn't ready to retreat. She hadn't taken those hungry eyes off of Grillby once, and now the two of them were barely a dozen steps apart. The next volley fired, and before another could be prepared the two armies were engaged - at least, as best they could be given their field of battle. Grillby was face-to-face with that ferocious mage and her strange magic.

The mage attacked in a mix of monster-like magic and muttered incantations, and all of it ice. There were darts and lances jabbed towards the elemental's body, breaths of creeping frost that settled on his armor and crawled across it, groping for any gaps or weaknesses. Once he felt it sting against his throat, and he fanned himself hotter in order to melt it away. He couldn't dodge her attacks, though he desperately wished he could. Even if it weren't for the press of bodies so close about him, he would be too afraid to move much on such a small platform. Instead he parried her magic as best he could with sword and shield, sometimes answering with small bursts of flame that singed her staff and scorched at her skin. Quickly her face became flushed from the heat and the movement, but never once did her defence open long enough for Grillby to end their fight. She wasn't just adept in magic, she was a skilled warrior too.

Grillby tipped forward in a lunge, the point of his sword leading. The mage twisted to the side just a step and parried, her short staff coming down to trap Grillby's sword against the stone at their feet. For a second they stood frozen - Grillby unable to move his sword and the mage knowing as soon as she moved her staff, their fight would begin again. She flashed him a breathless grin, one of an eagerness for battle and adrenaline-fueled exhilaration.

"You know," she said flawlessly in his language, and Grillby scowled at her, "I've always wanted to fight an elemental."

She lifted her staff and danced a step back, Grillby mirroring the motion, "I'm glad the one I _finally_ met is actually a challenge."

When the mage opened her mouth to speak again, she was shouting a spell. Grillby braced himself behind his shield, flinching against the impact of an icy lance. The arm that held his shield felt cold, a prickling sort of sting settling into his forearm. Grillby lunged towards the mage again. His sword crunched its way through ice-made attacks that sprung up to meet him before finally connecting with the mage's staff once again, fiery attacks blooming at his side as it did. Beneath his feet, Grillby could feel the bridge starting to shiver.

After what felt like ages of Grillby attacking frustratedly and never seeming to get anywhere, he finally managed to land a hit. It was nothing spectacular. The mage twisted to the side in time to dodge what Grillby had intended to be a crippling blow. Instead his sword tore it's way across her shoulder, just managing to rip a hole in her chainmail before the stroke was finished. The mage let out a stubborn grunt and lunged forward while Grillby struggled to step back. She was faster than he was.

Before he could bring his shield across to parry, the mage had muttered a bitter spell and jabbed the end of her staff against his hip. The jolt of pain that rocked through Grillby almost made him drop his sword. He let out a painful hiss of smoke and staggered back a step, reaching down with his shield arm to clutch at the wound she had opened up in his side. His fingers brushed against something _cold_ , and he cringed. Grillby scowled up at the mage, sword tip poised threateningly in her direction. The mage herself was frowning back, wincing slightly as she gripped her staff in both hands. Blood clotted at the cloth and chainmail around her shoulder.

That was when a horn blast split the air, and the ground beneath Grillby's feet started to shake. Grillby didn't even have to shout an order. All the monsters nearest to him surged back and Grillby backed away after them, wary of turning his back to the mage who still glared at him dangerously. That is, until a crack split the bridge between them. Grillby spun on his heel and ran for the bank, sparking painfully with every movement. Whatever she'd stabbed him with was starting to burn, an angry, biting cold reaching through his core. As he ran he was _sure_ he felt it moving, needle-like claws spreading out to dig further across his side and into his core.

Before Grillby was even on the shore a shout made it's way to him, a spell cast over the sound of the water and the crumbling bridge. The shuddering beneath his feet shivered and stopped, tapering off with a threatening rumble. Grillby turned and looked back.

The mage still stood in the middle of the bridge, staff held high, the gem in its center glowing fiercely. Haloed around her feet was a growing tide of ice. It jolted and stretched, reaching white fingers across the gap that had formed in the bridge, cementing the stones together, stabilizing the crumbling stone. As Grillby watched it, he felt like his soul had suddenly dropped into his stomach. The pain in his side gave a threatening pulse and he cringed.

The bridge was still intact, and the humans were advancing across it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took all the self-control I had in my body but by some miracle I managed to post this on time, and _not early_ , and _not ruin_ my buffer.
> 
> That being said! I _do_ have the next chapter finished, and I know how much you guys hate my cliffhanger/action scenes XD. And it's very reasonable I'll still be able to get the following chapter done before next Thursday. So. I'll let you guys have your two cents.
> 
> Would you like me to post the next chapter this weekend?
> 
> (Be advised, this does not necessarily mean you will still not be left with some kind of cliffhanger ;) )
> 
> It's about time we met that _one determined human mage character I've had sitting in the tags for the last 39 chapters._ Honestly I was getting to the point where I thought they just... weren't going to manifest (I'd had vague ideas for them when I started the story, but I never really planned out who/what/why/how the human character was going to be. I figured that, just like my other plot points, the stars would align for it at one point or another. Glad I finally managed to get it together!).
> 
> Anywho, wonder how our heroes will get outta this one?


	40. The Mage-Slayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone gets to look really cool for about .5 seconds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //LOUD SCREECHING//  
> F-F-F-Fanart feature! Holy cheesus. :'D Someone throw Flyingshadow451 some love because they have [ already done some lovely fanart of our unnamed and fricka-frackin' determined mage!!](http://flyingshadow451.deviantart.com/art/The-Frozen-Bridge-632094348) Aiy jeez. I'm excited!

Grillby watched as the last of the bridge stabilized, the mage’s enduring magic cementing the final stones into place. He would’ve been impressed honestly, if it weren’t for the dread crawling up through his insides. He didn’t know which scared him worse - knowing he’d have to go back on that bridge again, or knowing that mage was waiting for him. Grillby was wounded already. He could still feel that… whatever-it-was… sending freezing, tearing pain through his side, and no matter how hot he fanned his flame it wouldn’t be quenched. It endured and it stretched, writhing further up into his core and across his side. It was probably draining his HP away, slowly but surely, but Grillby was too scared to check and make sure. If he was dying, he didn’t want to know. He had enough things to panic about, and there was more work to be done.

Like what in _heaven’s name_ he was going to do now. Fire magic. He needed a _lot_ of fire magic. He was _sure_ he could melt the bridge if he had time but… _what about the mage?_ If Grillby had teeth, he was sure he’d be grinding them together - both in pain and exasperation. He _couldn’t_ do this. That mage was going to _kill him_. And if _she_ didn’t he was _sure_ the water would. Just the thought of running back onto that bridge was making his breathing go funny and panicked in his chest. But he had to do _something_. Amathea was nowhere in sight, Brigg was back at camp, and Thetis was off somewhere making illusions. _Grillby_ was in charge here. _He_ had to salvage this somehow.

The elemental glanced about at the monsters gathered close by him, shouting, “Alright! Fire magic users, take care of the ice! The rest of you with me. We’ve got to keep them from coming across.”

Grillby paused long enough to wave for the monsters to follow him. Then he raced back the way he’d come, back onto that precarious bridge. His soul felt tight in his chest - panic, exasperation and pain wormed through him, turning his fire sickening colors and making it harder to focus. Every stride agitated whatever it was that mage had done to him… _augh_ his whole side was burning with cold. The bridgework beneath him seemed to shudder with every step he took, and Grillby _prayed_ the bridge wouldn’t decide to give out while he was still on it.

Already the humans were past the center of the bridge, stepping purposefully across the ice towards the monsters now charging towards them. Grillby sucked in a bracing breath and pushed forward with a wall of flame, pulling hard against the fatigue in his soul to make it molten and white. It flew forward, flaring a bit as it skated across the layer of ice before folding itself around the humans who had advanced far enough. The mage once again muttered a spell to keep herself fireproof, but was forced to retreat back several steps when the men who had advance with her fell. But a cunning smile was playing on her lips, determined and daring, and Grillby scowled at it.

A thin layer of steam rose up from the iced together stones, but the wave of fire had passed across it harmlessly. Just like whatever the mage had shoved into his side, it persisted. Grillby’s soul sank in his chest. He couldn’t keep this mage in check _and_ try to melt away the bridge, especially when her magic was so damnably strong. Already she was advancing on him again, even as the troops behind her reeled and scrambled to follow. The air grew hot with fire magic as the monsters with Grillby got to work. He frowned as he watched them, watched as so many of their attacks seemed to just glance harmlessly off the glassy surface. It would take them ages to do any real damage to this mess! They had a better chance of waiting for Amathea and her crew to blast their way -

Grillby blinked, allowing himself the briefest second of hope, “ _Gaster_.”

The elemental spun to the monster closest to them, “Gaster! Run and get him, _hurry_.”

The monster turned and ran without question, scrambling back through their comrades and across the end of the bridge. Meanwhile Grillby through up another wall of flame, hazarding the advancing humans back. Across from him, the mage laughed.

“What’s the matter elemental? Too scared to come and fight me again?”

She muttered a spell and fired it at him, and Grillby braced himself behind his shield as a wicked blade of ice arced in his direction. The elemental growled as the impact agitated the wound in his side. This mage was _frustrating_.

“Grillby!”

Gaster was suddenly at his side, looking breathless and urgent. He was already signing frenetically even before he started speaking, “How can I help?”

Grillby took a protective step forward as the mage’s gaze settled on Gaster. She looked curious and hungry, her magic building around her as she wondered what to do about this new monster. What _monster_ could help an elemental? What manner of creature could melt a bridge when he couldn’t?

Grillby tightened his grip on his shield and glared back at her, watching for any spell she tried to throw, “Can you blast your way through the ice?”

Gaster cast an anxious glance down to the ice at his feet. His teeth twisted in a scowl before he said with a determined nod, “Give me five minutes.”

Five minutes. The wound in his side gave another sort of pulse. Was it _actually_ getting worse or was Grillby just imagining things? Whatever, he couldn’t bother with it now. Grillby hissed out a pent up breath of smoke and sparks, “Make it the fastest five minutes of your life!”

Without another word, Grillby dashed forward. _Towards the mage_. The one whose gaze had settled itself suspiciously on Gaster - and who Grillby was determined to keep distracted for as long as the skeleton needed. Her gaze centered back on him, surprise making her dance back a step as Grillby closed the distance between them. His sword snaked out to meet her staff, and she grinned.

“Couldn’t get enough of me the first time, could you?” she mocked, and Grillby flickered humorlessly back at her. Before they could engage, the building whine of magic snatched away the mage’s attention. She looked past Grillby, eyes going wide with surprise. Grillby snatched a glance over his shoulder, wincing against another pang from his side as he did so.

Gaster stood in the center of the bridge just a few strides away from Grillby, eyes sparkling with purple magic as he summoned one of his blasters over his shoulder. The great beastly head turned, the lights of its eyes locking on the bridgework at Gaster’s feet before splitting its jaws open and firing. But instead of fizzling out like the creatures normally did when Gaster summoned a blast, this one stayed. The concentrated jet of flame pouring from its jaws melted and tore away the ice and stone. Piece by burning piece Gaster was disintegrating the bridge. He winced as he held the blast there - Grillby couldn’t even imagine the strain that kind of sustained magic could put on Gaster’s soul. He just hoped the skeleton didn’t break something again.

The mage tore her staff away from Grillby’s sword, pointing it threateningly in Gaster’s direction and shouting a spell - and the elemental leaped in front of it, his shield shuddering against the impact of half a dozen glassy, needles of ice. Grillby called forth his own fire and sprung for the mage, hoping to catch her off guard. As he moved, attacks arched overhead, not from Grillby himself but from the brave monsters that had followed him over - though they had been smart enough to stop _behind_ the ice instead of dashing right through it like Grillby had. Spears and lances of blue and purple magic buried themselves into the humans cowering behind their mage. Apparently they were more afraid of the bridge breaking apart than she was. A few of them lifted bows towards the sky and started firing arrows back.

Now with a small bit of breathing room between himself and the rest of the creatures on the bridge, Grillby finally allowed himself to _carefully_ dodge the mage’s bristling attacks. It was easier than lifting his shield and bearing every other hit, even if it made the stitch in his side hurt worse. His paranoia of falling, of tripping or sliding on the ice and toppling into the water kept him from moving _much_ , but just the little room he managed to give himself was enough to help him fight back. Grillby surged at the mage with fire, swung forward with his sword every opportunity he was afforded. He was allowed to be a little more vicious, a little more daring as he struggled against her. Somehow, he even managed to land another hit, drawing blood across the mage’s leg. She stumbled out of his reach, panting and wary.

“Now you’re just being difficult,” she growled, a mockery of a humorless smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Grillby managed to flail his arms in some sort of shrug, sword flashing as he moved. He dared to growl back at her, “And you would have me just walk to my death quietly, mage?”

“So it _does_ speak!” the mage laughed, a high, piping sound like a flute, shrill against the crackle of magic and roar of water, “Walk into it kicking and screaming for all I care, monster! Just as long as it’s _your_ death and not mine!”

Grillby tightened his grip on his sword, wincing as another twinge of pain lanced its way up his side. This time he felt it shoot all the way up to his shoulder, and his soul shuddered as his HP dropped. The mage watched him and smirked.

“I was wondering if that worked,” she hummed, “Though I’m gonna be honest and say I thought you’d be dead by now.”

Grillby flickered painfully. He took a wincing step back, fighting the urge to drop his guard so he could clutch at his wounded side. The elemental was really starting to hope this mage had overestimated her magic. A sting in his side was a pitiful thing to die from, and he didn’t much care for dying today anyway.

The mage raised her staff, a muttered spell putting a glassy spear point at the end of it. She leveled the ice-tipped weapon at Grillby’s chest, and the elemental lifted his sword, ready to parry it aside.

A resounding _crack!_ split the air, and with it the bridge started shuddering and shattering, the ice spider-webbing with veins and cracks. Grillby was almost thrown off his feet as the ground beneath him gave a soul-stopping heave. The pieced-together stonework beneath his feet began to crumble along with the ice the mage had summoned. Grillby spun to look back at Gaster, who stood triumphantly before the gap his blaster had gouged through the rock. He’d only had to carve partway through the bridge before gravity took over, and now the whole thing was tumbling apart again. And as it did, Grillby realized he was _on the wrong side of it._ The two monsters’ gazes met across the crumbling distance and Gaster’s smile was snapped away in an instant.

Grillby glanced back at the mage. She was already backing a few steps away, watching cracks spider-web their way across the mortar that held the stones of the bridge together. Whatever magic she had used to glue the bridge together the first time, she made no move to use it again. Maybe she’d finally met the match for her magic and it was more power than she could spare to cast the spell again. Whatever the case, the elemental was grateful for it - even if it meant he… Grillby huffed out a ragged breath of smoke.

… Even if it meant he had to _jump_. If he was going to die he’d rather it _not_ be because of this hell-spawn of a mage. And even besides _her_ \- a darker, more insidious thought crept into his mind - these humans were capturing monsters weren’t they? And he was an elemental, one of the strongest monsters the kingdom had. Grillby couldn’t afford to be caught on this side of the river. Even if the alternative meant taking a leap of faith he wasn’t ready for. Even if it meant killing himself trying to get away.

Though he _desperately hoped_ that wasn’t about to happen.

Grillby sheathed his sword, spun on his heel and ran. He ignored the pain lancing up his side. He ignored the voice screaming in his head that he was going the wrong direction, that he was about to leap to his _death_. His eyes were locked on the growing, crumbling gap that separated him from where Gaster was standing. The skeleton’s eye sockets widened when he saw him and he yelled something - probably to tell him _not_ to do the idiotic thing he’d just set his mind on. Grillby wasn’t listening.

With a terrified scream, Grillby jumped.

On his own he wouldn’t have made it. Grillby’s body would’ve fallen just before the edge and he would have been lost into the water below. But Gaster was waiting for him, half-panicked and frantic, and as soon as the elemental was close enough he grabbed his soul with blue and heaved. The grip was weak and faltering but it was _enough_ , and Grillby landed in a heap at the skeleton’s feet. The impact jarred his body, sent an angry pulse through his wounded side, and Grillby choked on a scream.

Then Gaster’s blue was yanking him to his feet, and Grillby stumbled into a run after his friend.

“Never _ever_ do that again!” Gaster shouted with a fearful laugh as he ran.

Grillby crackled out a painful laugh of his own, “Well it worked, didn’t it?”

Grillby ran faster than he ever had in his life, but Gaster was pulling ahead of him and the elemental _couldn’t keep up._ He wasn’t fast enough. Even worse still, the ground was crumbling faster than Grillby was running - he could tell in the way the rock dipped beneath his feet, in the way some steps didn’t move as far as he wanted them to. He wasn’t going to make it! He wasn’t going to _\- !_

The riverbank was just a few steps in front of him with the cascade of rock finally passed Grillby’s feet. His boot came down on nothing but air, and with a scream Grillby started to fall.

By some miracle, Gaster’s hand clamped itself around Grillby’s wrist and the elemental’s fall stopped abruptly. Grillby reached up with his other hand and circled it around Gaster’s in a desperate grip. He was _shaking_ _;_ shivering so bad he could hardly breathe. And suddenly the river was _much louder_. He was so high above it, it shouldn’t sound so close!

“Hang on Grillby, I’ve gotcha!” Gaster called, and his voice was trying to be reassuring, but there was a cracking strain in it that made Grillby start to panic. His soul was pulsing so fast and hard in his chest he was _sure_ it was going to shatter all on its own.

In the few seconds he hung there, Grillby made the mistake of looking down. The instant he did his grip tightened on Gaster as best it could. He was _terribly_ high up, so much so it made his head spin. And there was nothing but water and froth beneath him, the already churning and muddy torrent of water dashed about even more as pieces of the bridge tumbled into its surface. Just glancing at it had been a _mistake_. If Grillby could cling any tighter to his friend, he would. For now he was helpless, at the complete mercy of Gaster’s grip, and it was terrifying.

Above him Gaster laughed, teeth gritted together as he struggled to keep his grip on Grillby’s hands, “Well what the hell did you look _down_ for? You already knew you weren’t going to like it!”

Grillby was too panicked to think of a reply and too terrified to speak even if he did. He just screwed his eyes shut and prayed, prayed to whatever or whoever could possibly be listening. He didn’t even pray _words_. He just wished in the barest grip of his panic that whatever happened, it didn’t involve him choking to death on _so much muffling cold_.

Finally Grillby managed to breathe out a faltering, “ _Please_ don’t drop me…!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, firefly!” came the skeleton’s grunted reply.

It took a few seconds before more hands joined with Gaster’s, gripping at Grillby’s arms, grabbing fistfuls of his clothes and armor. They all heaved, and Gaster snarling out some bitter curses as he pulled with them. A few more monsters had their arms wrapped around Gaster’s waist as well and together they all worked, joining in the effort of keeping the elemental from plunging into the river below. Belatedly Grillby realized he could help, and he managed to dig a boot into the grit he was pressed up against to heave himself up a little faster. Within a few seconds the elemental had been dragged onto the relative safety of the bank. He lay there, just breathing, shaking, that cold in his side still throbbing. But in spite of all that he was still very much _alive._ He could’ve fainted with relief.

With a painful flicker and a bitter, crackling groan, the elemental hauled himself to his feet to survey the damage they’d done.

Thanks to Gaster - and to Amathea and her monsters as well - the stubborn bridge had _finally_ collapsed. All that was left of the damned thing were the first five feet of stone on both sides of the bank, rooted close enough to the ground that they could stand on their own. They didn’t need the rest of the bridge to support them like the treacherous, arching spine of stone had. A cheer sounded amongst the monsters as the last of the mortar and rock tumbled into the river, the only crossing point for miles, destroyed in a matter of minutes.

To Grillby it felt like _hours_.

From where he stood, Grillby could see the mage pacing on the far bank, angry magic crackling about every one of her infuriated strides. Grillby had to admit it gave him some satisfaction to see her as angry as she was, storming about in frustrated circles like a caged animal. After a few moments of her bitter pacing she turned and pointed across the water, screaming.

“Survive that wound elemental! We _will_ fight again! I swear it!”

Gaster blinked at Grillby, frowning, “What? Survive _what?_ ”

For the moment, Grillby ignored him. There was a bubbling, indignant sort of anger building in him towards this mage. He wanted to do something about it before the whatever-it-was she’d put in his side became too much for him to bear. He stepped as close as he dared to the riverbank. Every movement was _painful_ , but he’d be damned if he let this mage know it. He wished he had something witty to say. Any hero worth their grit would think of something cool to say back, he was sure. But Grillby had nothing. So instead of saying anything dumb like he _knew_ he would, he just gave her a grand mockery of a bow, flickering in painful reds and oranges as he did so. The mage across the water gave him an indignant screech - one that was nearly drowned out by the breathless laughter and encouraging cheers of the monsters behind Grillby.

Even over the river he could hear her piping, bitter laughter, the tone beneath it angry and dangerous, “Thistle Bayhaven! Remember my name, monster! That’s the name of the mage that _will_ slay you!”

Gaster stepped up beside Grillby as the elemental straightened. He called back to her daringly on Grillby’s behalf, “Oh yeah? Well _you_ remember Grillby the Mage-Slayer! He’ll take you on _anytime_ human!”

Grillby would have laughed, but instead only managed an exhausted, humorous flicker. The _Mage-Slayer?_ Ha! What a load of nonsense! Well, he _had_ killed mages before but… not enough to warrant a title. Oh well, leave it to Gaster to actually think of the come-back Grillby was completely lost on. It was better than anything Grillby could think up anyway.

Besides, there was no taking it back now. That mage was already leaving, glowering and hissing bitter magic with every step. She stormed away, shouting orders to her soldiers as she went. Grillby turned to do the same, fully intent on putting as much distance between that infernal mage and himself as necessary. But as soon as he took his next step, whatever she’d put in his side sent a bitter twist of pain stabbing through him. With a startled cry Grillby collapsed, hands clutching at his wound. _Heavens alive!_ He felt so cold! What had she _done to him?_ Gaster was over him in an instant, asking him frantically what was wrong. Grillby could hardly answer - he didn’t really know himself. Then Amathea was there, hauling the elemental’s arm over her shoulder with Gaster’s help. She half helped, half dragged him towards the wall of fog before them, all the while yelling for the monsters standing nearby to follow her into whatever illusion Thetis had conjured up. As they hobbled along Gaster peppered him with questions. _What happened? Where are you wounded? How in the_ world _did she hit you? Why didn’t you say something earlier?!_

 _Didn’t I_ specifically _tell you_ _not to die while you were up there?_

Grillby was a little too busy focusing on his footsteps to answer in more than short, ragged sentences. Well, there went _any_ prestige he could've gained from that encounter. So much for Grillby the Mage-Slayer. At least the mage had been too angry to see _that_ bit. She was already just a smudge in the fog on the other side of the bank, fading off into the distance.

Grillby hoped she stayed that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So funny story /nervous laughter/ I actually was gonna go ahead and post this on Labor Day. But while you guys where zealously commenting on what you thought was going to happen, you inadvertently pointed out a shining plot hole in this chapter. So uh... I did some rewrited over my break!
> 
> Anyway! Thistle Bayhaven everybody! Remember her name! Whether you remember it fondly or infamously remains yet to be seen! I know I'm excited for her. There are grand plans in store (if I can write them properly anyway).
> 
> Also yes! Grillby the Mage-Slayer! Has a nice ring to it I think. That actually took me way longer to figure out than it should have. First I was going with 'The Winter Elemental' because in my rough timeline, Grillby was summoned in the winter, and that would be a way the monster army might keep track of the elementals they had. But I didn't have time in-text to explain that, and I kind of didn't want to anyway, so I scrapped it. Then I had Grillby just bowing, because I figured snarky comebacks really weren't his style anyway. And then eventually Gaster calling him the Mage-Slayer to make him sound cool was something that Gaster would totally do.
> 
> Gaster would make a great hype-friend. He's the guy that screams 'YEAH HE COULD TOTALLY KICK YOUR ASS' while you're trying to avoid a barfight.


	41. Firefly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we worry about nothing for a few minutes  
> Those 'what-if' moments are always exhausting

For the rest of the day until they made camp that evening Gaster did nothing but fuss over Grillby, making sure his stats stayed as high as could be managed while they walked. Amathea dragged him most of the way - much to the elemental's dismay and embarrassment. But they couldn't stop to heal any wounds yet. Thetis had a storm of an illusion conjured up for them, and if they didn't use it now, she'd never have the magic to make it again later. Whatever the illusion was, Grillby couldn't tell. To him it just looked like the fog they walked through was denser than before, the air coated with the taste of magic. But the elemental _did_ notice they left no tracks. Even Gaster's horse, laden with wounded from the unit they'd rescued, didn't leave so much as a scuff on the ground as they walked. Whatever this magic Thetis had was, it was _strange_ to say the least.

That evening Gaster spent an hour and a half pulling an icy spearhead out of its place in Grillby's side, and then another half hour making sure Grillby's soul was stitched back up in all the right places. Grillby turned the deadly little thing around in his hands while his friend worked. It was still freezing cold to his touch, and if he held it in one place too long it would start to quench the flame around his fingers while he turned it. Whatever spell the mage - Thistle - had placed on it, it was _powerful_. Powerful enough that it could still exist even without her there to keep the magic working. Strong enough that it didn't melt against Grillby's core when she'd placed it there. Strong enough that, the longer it sat there, the more of him it started to cool. Gaster told him there had been a patch of cooled core almost the size of his spread hand along Grillby's side from where the spearhead had done its work. The elemental hadn't bothered to look at it. He didn't _want_ to see how bad it was. Grillby was more than glad just to have the tiny thing out of him.

And as he turned it around in his hands, watching the way the colors of his flame refracted across its surface, he had to swallow the urge to toss it as hard as he could into the fire - the bitter piece of magic would probably put the fire out somehow anyway. Amathea sat across from him, munching thoughtfully on some rations and watching him glower at the unassuming piece of magic. After awhile she spoke up, a wry smile across her teeth.

"Keep it tinderbox, it'll make a great story," she smirked.

"A great story about _what?"_ Grillby asked with an incredulous laugh, adding with mock excitement, "Hey everyone! Wanna hear about the time I almost got my soul shattered by an ice mage?"

Amathea rolled her eyes, "Aye well if you tell it like that then _no_. Toss it here."

Grillby flicked it across the fire, and Amathea caught it deftly. Then she stretched her mouth wide in one of her vicious, storytelling grins, holding the piece of frozen magic grandly in front of her.

"Like this," she said, clearing her throat before saying in a harrowing, adventurous voice, "Gather round lads! I ever tell you about the time I took on an ice mage back in the great war? Aye fought her one-on-one! Just my flame and her fell magic atop a crumbling bridge. Think I'm lying do you? Well I've got the magic to prove it!"

She flipped the ice piece in the air and then caught it, all the while grinning. Grillby flickered a smirk at her as she tossed it back across the fire to him.

"Then," Amathea continued with a wry smirk, "You show off your scar there and _no one_ can question you."

"Elementals don't scar," Grillby sighed with a smile. And then abruptly frowned when Amathea spoke.

"Might wanna check your side there lad. 'Cause that's a scar if I've ever seen one."

Gaster shot Grillby an apprehensive smile, "Sorry… I was trying to fix it… before you noticed. But uh, your soul is healed and _this_ is not."

"You're kidding," Grillby leaned over to look, hands reaching to the place on his side the spearhead had been. He couldn't see it well from the angle he was at, but he could _feel_ just fine. Where the spearhead had been there was no flame. His core there was cool to the point of hardening, a patch of black against his yellow and orange flame. It was rough against his fingers and cool, but not the painful sort of cold that the spear had been - though it hurt just a bit beneath his touch. It wasn't really _cold_ at all. Just cooler than the rest of his fire. And it refused to melt back into his core, even as he flushed himself into hotter whites to try and get it to melt away.

"You're _kidding_ ," Grillby whined.

"Congratulations Grillby," Gaster chuckled, "You're the first elemental known to monster kind to ever have a scar. Well… the first one _we_ know about anyway."

" _And_ a nemesis," Amathea chuckled, "I saw you and Gaster annoying that poor lass. You've got to respect her spirit - even if she is a _human_. What I wouldn't do for an adventure like that."

"You want her? Take her!" Grillby sighed, "That's one less mage for _me_ to worry about."

"Don't feel so down, lad," Amathea smiled, "You did well today. Really. So what if the lass stung you? She didn't _kill_ you, did she? And that's a fair bit more important."

"I can't believe you _bowed_ at her," Gaster laughed suddenly, and Grillby flickered an embarrassed grin as Gaster got to his feet, mocking a grand bow of his own, "You're welcome miss mage for foiling _all_ your plans!"

He laughed and plopped back down again, "I personally like _my_ little piece of improvising. I think Grillby the Mage-Slayer is an awesome title."

"Aye, and it's not untrue either," Amathea grinned, "You're a strong elemental Grillby, you deserve some sort of title by now. Getting your name about might be a good thing."

"No, it's definitely _not_ a good thing," Grillby flickered with a frown, "What about Mistral of the Storm? She was well known, she had a title. And look what it got her."

"Aye sure, being well-known has it's downsides-"

"Death is just a _downside_ now?" Grillby asked with an incredulous flicker.

Amathea held up her hand placatingly, " _Death_ isn't the downside lad. Drawing attention to yourself is. But it's also helpful. You get prestige during times like this and you become a rallying point. Monsters look to you for guidance. For _hope_. Like that bowing stunt today. You just spat in the face of one of our greatest fears - _mages_. And I'll tell you another thing, seeing a fire elemental standing on a bridge was probably heartening as well. All the beasties up there, afraid for their lives on that thing, they looked at you and said 'Well, _he's_ not afraid, and he has the most reason to be! I shouldn't be afraid either!' _That's_ the effect you have on monsters Grillby."

Amathea gave him a thoughtful smile, "And giving you a title of any sort will bring more of that out of you. It will make them remember you. _Grillby_ is just an elemental. There are dozens of them fighting in this war. He's important to a mighty few of us that know him. But the _Mage-Slayer_. Well, he must some kind of amazing if people are calling him _that_."

Grillby flickered a weary smirk.

"Oh come _on_ firefly," Gaster groaned, giving the elemental a gentle shove, "At _least_ admit it sounds cool."

" _Okay fine,_ it sounds kind of cool,," Grillby chuckled teasingly, and Gaster gave a proud and satisfied nod.

Shortly afterwards they broke for the night, Gaster and Grillby both lying near the fire to sleep. Amathea ambled off into the night, complaining about needed to gather some news from Thetis on _what exactly_ they had rescued these monsters for. As selfish as it was to think, Grillby _prayed_ they had a really good reason for such a perilous rescue. Not that saving the lives themselves was something to be though lightly of. It was just… Grillby's core hadn't stopped shivering, even after the spearhead was removed, even though there was distance between him and the field he'd just fought on. The whole affair had been _nerve-wracking_. He was shaken all the way to his soul, and he was afraid to sleep. After something like that… he was _sure_ to have nightmares, wasn't he?

Grillby lie awake for hours, every once in awhile rubbing his thumb against that strange scar on his side, nervous and thoughtful. That was going to take some getting used to. He'd never felt anything like it before - at least not in a way that hadn't healed. Above him the stars turned. The moon peeked its face out through a thin veil of clouds, these ones wisping and thin and colorless. They were the herald of cold and not - thank heavens - the herald of rain.

"Grillby?"

The elemental gave a subtle spark.

"You awake?"

"Yeah," the elemental yawned back, "Are you?"

Gaster chuckled. Silence listed between them for a moment, an occasional crackle of the dying fire barking at them to break it.

"I can't sleep."

"Me neither," Grillby admitted, sighing out a breath of smoke, "Why can't you?"

"Thinking too much," Gaster hummed, and Grillby glanced at him. The skeleton's broken eye was facing him, and the light of his flame highlighted the scarred bone wickedly. The light of Gaster's eye was dull and distant, focusing on something far away in the sky.

"What are you thinking about?" Grillby whispered.

The skeleton pillowed his arms behind his head and huffed out a sigh. His teeth ground against each other as Gaster thought for a moment, trying to find some way to put into words whatever it was that was keeping him awake. Finally he spoke.

"Just… today I guess. The monsters. The bridge," he said finally, and Grillby flickered in surprise, "And _you_. You're terrified of water, Grillby. Why in the _world_ did you jump across that gap?"

There was a pause and Gaster sighed, "Every time I close my eyes I see it. And I can't believe it actually happened."

Grillby frowned up at the sky, eyes searching for nothing in particular, "Well… it _did_ happen."

"That was _terrifying_."

The elemental cracked a chuckle, "You're telling me."

Gaster turned his head then, blinking his keen eyes at Grillby, "How did you know I was going to catch you?"

Grillby shrugged, "I didn't."

"But you jumped anyway?"

The tone in Gaster's voice was nothing short of baffled - and maybe impressed as well. Grillby flickered a dry smile at the sky, suddenly feeling _very_ tired.

"Well…" Grillby breathed, "... there wasn't much thinking involved. It was either jump or get captured, and I'd rather be dead than caught so…"

Gaster's eye sockets widened with surprise.

"Well to be honest, I'd probably have been dead anyway if that mage got her way," Grillby admitted with a frown, a hand reaching down self-consciously to brush across his scar, "She was… uh… pretty determined for _that_ at least. But if they really _are_ taking monsters prisoner, and they decided to take me, that's bad. Right?"

Grillby flickered a grimace, "I mean, saying it outloud sounds crazy. But at the time it made sense."

"No it… still makes sense," Gaster said quietly, "It's just a really, _really_ scary decision to make for yourself."

A pause passed between them.

"I just…" Gaster stammered, his voice low and concerned, "... what would've happened if I'd…"

Grillby frowned into deepening reds, "If you'd what? _Dropped_ me?"

Gaster squeezed his eye sockets shut and flinched, as if the thought alone was painful, "Yeah. That."

Grillby gave a sad smirk. Why in the world was Gaster worrying about _that_ of all things? Well… Grillby supposed he shouldn't judge. The elemental was constantly worrying over useless things himself. He understood the paranoia, the fear and the morbid curiosity. He just wished Gaster hadn't taken to feeling that way himself. Especially over something that hadn't actually happened - and if Grillby could help it, would never come close to happening again.

The elemental cleared his throat and said as nonchalantly as he could possibly manage, "Well I guess you'd finally win that 'all monsters should learn to fly' argument."

Gaster rolled his eyes and gave a disappointed groan, " _Damn it_ Grillby, be serious."

"I think I could fly," Grillby continued, the grin on the edge of his voice ruining any seriousness he could put into his tone, "You know, if I tried hard enough. I wonder if I can make flame-y wings?"

In spite of himself, Gaster let out a laugh, "Oh yes. Like a big, fire-covered butterfly."

"A _firefly_ ," Grillby corrected with a playful snicker, and Gaster's grin widened.

"That joke was terrible."

The elemental shrugged, "You just don't appreciate good humor."

Their laughter pattered out to into contented sighs and smirks, and then finally thoughtful silence. After a moment Gaster whispered.

"I'm glad I caught you."

"Trust me, I am too," Grillby sighed, "Seriously, I wasn't ready for any of that. I almost panicked when Ammy told me I had to fight up there. I've never been so scared in my life. I was shaking and seeing stars and everything. And then everything else went so wrong..."

Gaster flashed him a reassuring smile, "Well you held it together pretty well. _I_ didn't know you were scared. You actually looked pretty heroic up there. You _were_ pretty green for a bit, you know. But... that's something only I would notice anyway."

The two chatted quietly on for most of the night, both avoiding going to sleep for fear of whatever their dreams had in store. Both taking comfort in the others' presence. They talked until Amathea stumbled her way back over to them, exhausted from the fight during the day and the lateness of the hour. She was the one that finally shushed them, telling them to get some rest while they could still have it. They had a long walk ahead of them.

And walk they did, a stiff march that carried them fast and far - as fast as possible with the wounded they carried. Grillby walked shortly beside Amathea and Thetis, the two sisters musing back and forth at each other as the day progressed, passing information and wondering about the monsters they had rescued. According to Thetis this group was, as far as they knew at least, all that remained of the Western Front - which seemed like good news to Grillby. Wasn't the Western Front supposedly destroyed? If there were monsters here that had escaped the route, surely others had as well?

But something weird was going on. Thetis had spoken with a few of the ranked officers in the group the night before. Most of these monsters were from different units, scattered bits and pieces of what was left of those who had fled. They had been running for miles, and the humans had chased them the entire way. The story the sisters managed to piece together was less than heartening.

Over the course of a few nights, the front had been hit one army after another. Systematically. As if the humans had known where all of them already were before they moved or changed positions. Every unit reported being attacked by one mage or more, and the mages all carried strange magic. _Monster_ magic. Like Thistle on the bridge.

Now Amathea and Thetis were worried. About the only advantage monsters had against humans was their magic. While every monster could use magic, only a few humans could wield their own, and even fewer could take the time to study the spells and incantations it took to make that magic formidable. That's why there were so few mages in the first place. Somehow, the humans had _changed_ that. They were using magic that didn't need commanded, the kind of soul-connected magic that monsters used. And if it really _was_ like monster magic, it wouldn't need nearly the training and direction normal mages had to go through.

Would that mean there would be more mages now? Would they be as strong as the ones they'd faced before? Stronger? Weaker? Was this strange new magic the reason why monsters were disappearing?

Well… to Grillby at least it seemed that was an obvious yes, and Amathea seemed to feel the same. The only thing Thetis seemed sure of was that she needed more information. As soon as she could get her hands on it, she promised to pass it along to Amathea as well.

Already she was talking about what she was going to tell the King in her report - Grillby's head had spun at that. Not many monsters got _that_ privilege. Though he figured most monsters didn't know how to write a report either. Did Thetis write in the monster language from the south, or did she write in whatever language she spoke in the north?

Apparently Gaster's questioning of things had rubbed off on him.

The next day they were back at the encampment they had set out from, and Gaster spent the evening dragging Grillby around the healing tents, patching up every monster they had rescued. None of the monsters were falling down - thank heavens. Grillby wasn't so sure he was ready for that kind of work again. Most of their injuries and wounds were minor. Really, Gaster didn't even _need_ to help, the normal doctors could have taken care of it. But the skeleton was itching for some way to be useful, and this was the best way for him to be. And Grillby had to admit, for as tiring as the process was for him, it was refreshing to see the grateful, smiling faces that came out of it.

Though it came with no shortage of embarrassment either. Apparently every monster present had heard Gaster's proclamation about Grillby, _the Mage-Slayer_. With every monster they came across Grillby was bombarded with questions. Had he really killed mages? How many battles had he fought in? So elementals really were as powerful as everyone made them out to be? Maybe there's hope for us yet! Gaster thought the whole affair was the adorable sort of humorous - especially when Grillby's flame pitched itself into flustered hues when he was thrown a question he wasn't prepared for. Several times Grillby was thanked, whole-heartedly and soul-baringly, for aiding in the rescue, and every time Grillby could hardly fathom how to respond. A simple "you're welcome" fell so short of the reverence some of the monsters gave him.

For a week they rested - or as close to rested as they were allowed to. Amathea and Thetis spent hours of their time together with the other commanders in camp. Grillby and Gaster hardly saw them. And there was an uptake in the ghosts that came and went - sending messages for Thetis and collecting information for her. There were rumors going about that her report had already made it back to the King and it was causing a stir in the capital.

Left to their own devices, Grillby and Gaster took to sparring and training. Gaster needed it anyway, they supposed. He needed to learn how to use those new daggers of his effectively. Grillby taught the skeleton some simple ways of blocking and parrying, how to disarm a swordsman that was running towards him. The techniques would be useless against some human with an axe or a hammer - any weapon with enough leverage to just toss the daggers aside. But it would _help_ , and that was all that really mattered.

It was a bit weird but… the training made Grillby feel relieved. It felt like a return to _normal,_ more so than anything else he'd done in the past weeks. He was in an actual camp, a safe one surrounded by walls and monsters, where he was allowed to just _live_ knowing he wasn't being shipped away to another battlefield for a little while at least. He was sparring, cooking meals. When Amathea managed to break away from whatever important business she was managing, she was giving Grillby and Gaster feedback on their measly bit of progress as they sparred and it felt _normal._ The dread in the air and the dust on the breeze became distant, and the nervous tension in Grillby's soul relaxed. Even his troublesome nightmares seemed to decide life was too pleasant to plague him for now. The war grew abstract again, in bits and pieces at least, shifting away from a brutal reality and closer to a bad dream. That was a dangerous way of thinking, Grillby new. It made reality all the more jarring when he was thrown back into it - which he was sure to be. But for now at least he could allow himself the tiniest bit of foolish naivety.

It was a peace he hadn't even known he'd been missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and next chapter are pretty nice and I had so many happy feels writing them :'D I think you guys will like the next chapter! Hopefully! Maybe! I'll keep my fingers crossed!
> 
> And speaking of you liking things! I know I haven't said anything about it yet, but thank you guys so much for all the lovely comments and support you give me. Really you have no idea what it means to me. I know I haven't responded to comments in awhile (on FF I can't I don't think, unless I PM people). I get very easily overwhelmed, and I feel like I'm being ungenuine after I answer so many so similarly. So I want you to know as heartfelt as I can be over the interwebs, that I do read and appreciate everything you guys say. You're amazing people and I'm so so glad a small community has come out of this story that's so nice and supportive. Words can't even describe.
> 
> And while I'm doing things in my comments down here: I do have a bit of news I wanted to share with you guys! As far as this story goes.
> 
> So basically the way I wrote/am writing this thing, it's in 3 very large, vague-ish parts. If I went back and edited this (which is in the scope of possibility) I would probably split it into a Book 1, Book 2, Book 3 sorta deal. Each part has its own story arc as far as beginning-middle-climax-exposition goes. The first part (Book 1) ended when Grillby and Gaster found Ammy again after they got caught in the downpour (Chapter 32 I think). We are nearing the end of the second part (Book 2). When I say nearing, I mean give me like... 5-10 more chapters or so. I'm still setting up a few things and trying to figure out if I wanna keep others.
> 
> I've written a couple chapters ahead, and started a small... uh... miniature story arc the kinda foreshadow some things, but I've been rereading it and now I'm not so sure I want to keep persuing it. Not that it's a bad idea. I was really excited for it! But this story is getting pretty long, and I don't want you guys to think I'm dragging it on unnecessarily. That's probably just because I figured it'd be finished by now that I feel that way. But... eh.


	42. Skylights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see some things that are breathtaking  
> Both in beauty and in awesomeness

Grillby awoke to Gaster shaking his shoulder gently and whispering for him to get up. At first Grillby tried to ignore him. That he could remember, he wasn't dreaming anything worth staying asleep for. It just felt nice to be asleep, wrapped up in his own body heat and the comfort of his drowsy soul. But Gaster was being persistent, and with a tired groan Grillby stoked himself brighter and warmer as he allowed himself to be dragged into wakefulness. Gaster grinned at him, signing quietly for Grillby to wait there while he stole over to Amathea and nudged her awake as well. Grillby watched, his tired mind slowly wondering if he should be worried about something.

Well, Gaster sure didn't seem _urgent_. Right now he was trying to have a conversation with Amathea - who was still half asleep. Asking her if she wanted to come with him for - the skeleton glanced back at Grillby before whispering again - that _thing_ they saw this time last year. Amathea blinked at him, tired and uncomprehending for several long seconds before smiling, yawning, and waving him away. She wasn't excited about that nonsense like Gaster was, and would rather sleep. Maybe she'd track them down later and join them.

Amathea hummed with a yawn as she rolled back over to sleep again, "Show tinderbox though. He'd like it."

Gaster was too giddy to be disappointed that she wasn't coming. With a particularly happy bounce in his step he helped Grillby to his feet, signing for the elemental to be quiet and follow him. Grillby tried to sign back and ask what was going on, but in his tired confusion half of his signs were wrong, and Gaster just chuckled at him and motioned again for the elemental to follow. With nothing else to do and a bit of curiosity slowly awakening in his soul, Grillby fell in step behind Gaster as the skeleton led him through the sleeping camp.

It was dark out. Grillby couldn't tell if it was early in the morning or sometime in the middle of the night. Whatever it was, it was _dark_. The moon was gone, the stars the only things glittering down at him from the heavens, paper-thin clouds sometimes obscuring them from view, but only just. What in the world could Gaster be so excited about at this hour?

The two monsters crept through the encampment, passing a handful of watchmen on their way out. Gaster led them a little ways away from camp, the two of them scrambling to the top of the nearest rocky hillside. The skeleton found them a flat patch of ground where the trees were sparse, and finally motioned for Grillby to find a place to lay down. The elemental did as he was told - albeit confusedly - laying on his back on the cold stone and blinking up at the sky. Gaster situated himself close by him, a pleasant grin on his face.

"Okay," Grillby said slowly, tiredly, "Any particular reason why we're here?"

Gaster just beamed up at the sky, "Because this time of year is my favorite."

He pointed up to some corner of stars in the sky, "Keep your eyes in _that_ direction."

Grillby nodded, smiling slightly at how absolutely _giddy_ Gaster seemed to be. He was smiling, his hands constantly moving in one excited word or another, though they mostly amounted to: _firefly, you're going to love this!_

Gaster cleared his throat, "So uh… Grillby. Know anything about how the sky works?"

Grillby crackled a tired laugh, "I have absolutely no idea."

"Do you _want_ to know?"

Grillby gave the skeleton a sideways glance, "Will this eventually explain why we're out here in the middle of the night?"

"Yes!"

"Then go ahead."

Gaster beamed at this, his eyes locked on that place in the sky he'd pointed out earlier. Grillby tried to keep his eyes focused that direction as well, but every time Gaster moved his hands as he talked, Grillby found his attention being yanked away towards them.

"Okay so, everything is connected to the four elements," Gaster started, "The ground we walk on is the earth element, and it's at the center of our universe. All the water on the earth makes up the next layer. And it also dissolves into the next layer, which is air. The last layer, way at the top where we can barely see it, is fire. That's where all the stars are, and the moon, and everything else past the clouds, and that entire layer is constantly in motion, moving in circles."

A flicker of movement caught Grillby's eye and he frowned at himself when he looked back at the sky and it was gone. He'd gotten distracted staring at Gaster's hands moving as he'd talked, and he'd missed… whatever it was Gaster had been trying to show him. Whoops. Well, at any rate, Gaster didn't seem to notice. He just kept talking excitedly.

"Now! The cool thing about the air layer is it's responsible for so many brilliant things in the sky!" the skeleton grinned, "The closer to the water layer it gets, the cooler it is, the more it forms things like rain and clouds and snow. Which is another amazing thing I'd love to explain sometime. But… eh not right now. Are you still looking up there where I told you to?"

"Yes?"

"Good! _Anyway_ , so the closer the air layer gets to the fire layer, obviously it'll get hotter right? And well, air and water rises up from the earth layer, and goes up to the air layer. And just when it gets to the hottest part of the air layer, the fire layer starts trying to move it in a circle. And sometimes when the two movements meet they actually catch fire."

"The sky catches fire?"

Gaster laughed, "No, no. The _sky_ doesn't. Just the earth stuff that floats it's way up there. That's how shooting stars are made."

Just as he said this, a light struck out across the sky and Grillby gave a surprised flicker as he watched it. It arced delicately, thin and frail and bright against the backdrop of stars behind it before fizzling out in hues of blue and white. Grillby blinked, crackling in mute amazement. Gaster grinned at him.

"Did you see it?"

" _Yes_ ," Grillby said, his flame slowly brightening as his surprise turned into excitement, " _That's_ a shooting star?"

"Never seen one before?" Gaster gave a quiet chuckle.

" _No_ ," Grillby laughed, "Well, I'd _heard_ about them but… I guess I don't spend enough time looking up to see them."

"Well keep staring off in that direction and you'll see more."

Grillby gave an incredulous flicker, "What? _Really?"_

"Yeah," Gaster grinned, "I don't know what it is about this time of year but in the fall there's always a lot of falling stars. Just for a few days before they disappear again. My brother and I first noticed it when we were little kids. We used to watch them every year."

Another of the flares of light shot across the sky, and Grillby flickered at it in wonder. Then another passed by, and a third. They were so small and frail, and so far away from him. And every single time another lanced across the sky, Grillby couldn't help but give a startled flicker, before his flame collapsed into soft blues and purples of awe. He couldn't believe he'd never seen this before! But of course, he hadn't really been alive for very long had he?

"It's amazing," Grillby whispered as another of the flares arced across the sky, this one bright and flashing nearly from one horizon to the other.

Gaster chuckled, "Yeah, it is. I've been watching these for as long as I can remember, and they've never stopped amazing me."

The skeleton let out a whistle through his teeth, his gaze focusing somewhere far away and wistful, "You know, where I came from, we had legends about fire elementals. They said the first ones ever came from falling stars."

Grillby smirked, "Is _that_ why you wanted me to see this?"

"Kinda. It's also just really cool to watch."

The two of them lapsed into silence, Grillby watching wide-eyed as stars began to fall. It must have had something to do with the time of night, because the longer they sat the more Grillby saw. They fell faster, sometimes two or three at a time. Sometimes they fell one after another, like far off dancers following in each other's footsteps. Other times minutes stretched on in between glances of the falling light, and Grillby would wonder anxiously if perhaps the one he'd seen before was the last one.

Dawn was just beginning to color the horizon in lighter shades of blue when Amathea joined them, grumbling about how it was too early in the morning to be awake - though she did so with humor and a smile. They all lay back, eyes locked on that spot on the horizon, waiting for more of the stars to flair into life. Amathea liked shouting out and pointing when she saw one, and she gave Grillby several startles and Gaster a lot of laughs. Eventually the skeleton joined her, every once in a while one or the other of them would point out a star Grillby was looking in the wrong direction to see, and he'd catch the end of a flare just before it died out.

"Did you tell him all your fool science on all of this?" Amathea smirked in Gaster's direction and the skeleton laughed.

"It's not _fool science_ ," Gaster tutted, "Monster and human astronomers have been talking about this since before this war even started. And before them we had myths and legends, gods and fantastical creatures…"

The skeleton sighed, "Our love of things like the sky and how it works… it's about the only thing our races have in common anymore."

"Well isn't that the wisest thing I've ever heard come out of that skull of yours?" Amathea said with a sad sort of chuckle.

Gaster rolled his eyes as best he could manage, "Oh shush. It's not wise. It's _true._ What about your people up north. Didn't you guys ever talk about the sky?"

"Well of course we did," Amathea shrugged, "We've got stories for every one of those stars up there - and none of them have to do with your layer nonsense. It's got to do with the gods and the great kings and spirits of years past us. The druids did all sorts of study on the magic of the sky, and they told us common folk all the stories about it."

Amathea's ear frills twitched thoughtfully, "When I was young I had the chance to learn about it, but I was too busy fighting with my kin to care about it too much. If I ever get the chance to go back, I might track down some of those old druids and ask them a few questions."

Her face twisted into a scowl, "Assuming any monsters up there are still alive."

Another star fell; this one bright red and flashing, and it cast all of them into silence. A thoughtful, watchful quiet fell across them as they watched the sky, watched the stars turn while some of them fell. In the gaps between falling stars, Gaster would point out different constellations in the sky and name them - to which Amathea would laugh and tell him what those stars were called where she was from and the stories they represented. All Grillby could do was sit in silence and listen.

Finally the elemental sighed out a breath of smoke, tilting his head in Amathea's direction as he did, "Hey Ammy?"

"Aye tinderbox?"

"If we _do_ make it through this mess," Grillby said, "And you go back north, can I come with you?"

Amathea's ear frills twitched, her look of muted surprise slowly melting away as a slow grin spreading across her sharp teeth, "You being serious, lad? It's a long way north where I come from. Lots of snow and rain, especially in the winter and spring. It's a tad bit dangerous for an elemental like you."

"Well, if you guys want to go east first," Gaster offered, bright eyes sparkling, "I know a place that does _great_ waterproofing magic. The town I was apprenticed in had all sorts of magic tailors. And maybe I could get them to give me a few lessons too, so we can keep it with us while we travel?"

Grillby sparked a smile, "That… would be amazing."

He glanced between the two monsters, "I'd love to see where you guys grew up. You're going to have to show me _everything_."

"You bet your soul we will, tinderbox!" Amathea said with an uproarious laugh, "We'll show you so much of this world you'll wonder how it could ever feel small, won't we Gaster?"

"Just wait until you see where I came from," Gaster laughed and signed excitedly, "Open plains and forest as far as the eye can see. And some of the trees grow so tall, if you climb to the top you can almost see where the world ends. You haven't lived until you've seen _that_."

"Aye lad, and just you wait until you see your first sunset off the ocean," Amathea grinned, "I'm telling you Grillby, that's what _real_ magic looks like."

One of the brighter stars flashed across the horizon then, and all of them paused to watch it. The sky was starting to get too bright to see the dimmer ones - already a line of white light had appeared on the horizon, tinting the blue around it with dull shades of yellow. Soon the sky would be turning from the deep blues of night to the pale colors of day and the stars would have to stop falling. Amathea was the first of them to stir, pulling herself to her feet and brushing the dirt from her clothes.

"Alright lads, time to get the day started," she hummed, "There's a lot of work to be done."

Grillby stretched his stiff limbs and sat up where he'd lay, Gaster mirroring the motion.

"Are we getting shipped out again?" Grillby asked, and Amathea shrugged.

"Soon, yeah, but not for several days yet," the captain hummed, "There's a big to-do that's happening first. The King is on his to this camp."

Grillby gave a jolt of surprise, sparks flying as he did. Gaster frowned.

"The _King?_ " Gaster asked incredulously, "Is this about Thetis's report? What in the _world_ did she _say?_ "

"Her report has a bit to do with it," Amathea nodded, "But it's not the only thing. The humans have a large army coming down from the northwest - a good guess says they're the ones that wiped out the western front. King Dreemurr _himself_ wants to deal with it. And since this is the only walled camp we have left in the north, we get to host the royalty."

"That's a bad idea," Gaster signed nervously, and Amathea heaved out a heavy sigh.

"I'll admit I've got my doubts about it. But the King and his entourage are some of the strongest monsters and elementals this war has seen, and the King and his son are both boss monsters. If they can't deal with this mess, what other chance do we have?"

Grillby and Gaster exchanged grim looks. She… had a point.

"Come on lads," Amathea said, a bit of reassurance in her voice, "They'll be announcing the King's intentions at dawn, and we've got to make this place fit for royalty before the week's up."

* * *

It was safe to say that Grillby had _no idea_ what 'fit for royalty' meant, but from the list of chores they were given, apparently it meant _clean everything_. The main dirt path inside the wall was broadened so the King and his entourage could go straight into the fortress without much hassle. Brigg's troops were moved to the barracks inside the fortress itself, crowding inside with the troops already stationed within. The King was bringing an army, and they would need all the room within the walls they could get - which meant the soldiers already there would have to make do with tight spaces. The walls were worked to be made more presentable, forges were stoked and weapons were honed, a suitable training ground was established. Patrols were posted, hunting parties gathered, inventories counted and food stores prepared.

And in between the chores, training sessions and hunting parties, Grillby and Gaster were being briefed by Amathea on what was going to transpire once the King finally arrived. Every word she said made Grillby more nervous by the second.

In the King's reply to Thetis' report, he had demanded a meeting between himself and every commander within the encampment - something that wasn't uncommon. Strategies had to be discussed, the numbers of available troops exchanged, reinforcements called for. But he had also requested a firsthand account of the battle on the bridge, of the strange new magic they would be up against and the power of the mages that were to be faced. Which meant Gaster and Grillby were coming to the meeting as well - Grillby because of his fighting, and Gaster because of the healing work they had done on the monsters that were rescued. And Grillby was _terrified_.

"I can't speak in front of a _King_ ," Grillby had babbled nervously when Amathea first told him.

"Aye sure you can!" Amathea laughed, "If you can sing in front of this pack of fustilarian drabble than you can speak to a King. He needs to know about that fight between you and that Bayhaven. Keep that piece of ice she left you with handy as well. They'll want to see that."

Whenever Grillby and Gaster were free, Amathea was running them through how to act and what to say. They were to wear their best clothes and armor, which meant patching holes, washing clothes, and shining metal. She walked them through how to bow, not to speak unless they were spoken to. She ran them through their testimonies, reminding them this monster was looking for facts and facts only. No exaggeration was to be made, no mention on how you'd felt or opinions given. And - she'd given Gaster a meaningful look - _do not ramble_. The King didn't need to listen to their nervous babbling!

Grillby was getting more anxious with every passing minute.

It was another three days before the horns finally rang out to signal the incoming troops. Grillby was helping one of the blacksmiths with their forge at the time. The sound of the roaring flame had nearly drowned out the trumpeting signal. But when they heard it all monsters stopped what they were doing as best they could. Grillby was swept up in a crowd of monsters, muttering disgruntled apologies to any monster that bumped into him in the mess of movement. The lined the one shoddy dirt path in the entire compound, Grillby eventually managing to shoulder his way over to Gaster and Amathea. He and the Gaster stood off to the side of the fortress doorway while Amathea, Brigg and the other two commanders stood in the doorway itself, ready to receive the coming monsters.

What followed was nothing short of the grandest parade of soldiers Grillby had ever seen in his life.

The first fifty or so monsters through the gate were on horseback, the steeds themselves were great warhorses several hands tall, all of their coats dappled in dark colors. The soldiers themselves all wore heavy, plated armor with great stirrups on their saddles for lances. Behind them came footmen, all arranged in neat units of spears, swords, axes and hammers. On the chest plate of every warrior was inscribed the delta rune, the monster kingdom crest. These were elite soldiers straight from the capital's training grounds themselves. Behind these ranks of monsters came the more bestial monsters, monsters that walked on four or more legs whose armor had to be specially tailored for them. These soldiers were impressive to be sure. They were nothing like the ragged, pieced-together units Grillby had seen or been a part of in the past. But what _really_ impressed him was the King himself, and the warriors he kept close beside him.

The King himself was gigantic, a monster who seemed to be a strange mix between a goat and a lion, and he sat proudly on one of the tallest horses in the entire army. His horns curved back away from his face magnificently, gold circlets adorning them both - a sign of his status while on the field instead of a crown - and his dark beard was braided. His gaze was sharp, his eyes the color of molten magic, and intent radiated off him with every move he made. It was almost oppressive, hanging over the gathered monsters like a slowly unfolding spell in the air. It was a smothering feeling that Grillby was used to feeling around a strong mage, or when Amathea began to sing. It wasn't something he had been expecting of his King. He didn't know if he should be impressed or fearful. Beside the King rode his son, a monster of equal grandness to his father, though his hair and beard had more gold compared to the King's gathering greys and blacks. It took Grillby a moment to realize it was _Commander Dreemurr_ , the monster who had been in command of the camp he was summoned in. The very same monster who had given Gerson his title of Hammer of Justice. From the few times they ever encountered each other, Grillby remembered the Commander as someone soft-spoken and optimistic, always carrying a pleasant smile. Now he looked nothing short of stern and somber.

Encircled around the King and his son rode their personal guard, four unassuming looking monsters that could have been made of stone. They were thin and small but otherwise unremarkable, living magic radiating off of them with every movement. They lacked any armor, wearing only simple tunics with the delta rune inscribed across them. They carried no weapons, and they didn't need to. These, Grillby knew, were stone elementals. He could feel it in the way their magic moved through the air and the intent behind it. One of them made eye contact with him, and he thought he saw a barely noticeable smile spark in their green, jewel-like eyes. Grillby flickered a few anxious colors back.

The King stopped his march in front of Amathea and the other commanders. In a grand motion he and his son dismounted, long purple capes flaring with the movement, and the commanders all bowed in welcome. A few niceties were exchanged, general words of welcome and a half-joked apology for the lackluster state of the encampment. The two Dreemurrs were lead inside the small fortress, sending a last instruction for their army to begin pitching their tents. Two of the stone elementals followed the King inside. The two remaining positioned themselves in front of the fortress door, statuesque sentinels that might have never been alive at all if it weren't for the magic that almost seemed to vibrate the air around them.

The fortress units and the grand army dispersed as tents were pitched and units were gathered together. Grillby and Gaster were left standing where they were, watching as the gathered parade scattered like so many ants beneath a crushed anthill.

Gaster let out a long, low whistle through his clenched teeth, "That was impressive."

"I'll say," Grillby flickered, "There's so many of them… I wonder if there are any more elementals in there."

Gaster let out a rattling chuckle, "Not gonna leave me behind for a bunch of boss monster friends are you?"

Grillby rolled his eyes and gave Gaster a playful shove with his elbow, earning another bout of laughter from the skeleton, "Of course not, numbskull! But I've never actually spoken with other elementals before."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not," Grillby said with a quiet flicker, "I was summoned alone and I trained alone. I've only ever seen other elementals from across the battlefield, and then we were a bit too busy to talk."

Gaster shrugged, "Well I can't imagine you're missing much. They're just like any other monster, right?"

"Well… yeah…" Grillby said, "I guess so. I dunno. I've just always wanted to talk to one."

Gaster cast a sideways glance past Grillby towards the two sentinels standing by the door. He smirked and signed, _What about those two?_

Grillby crackled a laugh and signed back, _Oh yes, talk to the King's personal bodyguards while they're on duty. What could possibly go wrong?_

Gaster made a show of scrutinizing the two elementals, faking a thoughtful expression before signing with a smirk, _I think you could take them._

The elemental rolled his eyes as best he could, flickering in the bright colors of a grin, "You're insane. Come on. Let's make ourselves look presentable. They'll be calling us to meet the King soon I'm sure."

"Darn, and here I thought I could finally get a nap in," Gaster grumbled good-naturedly.

The two shuffled their way through the teeming courtyard and into the barracks - Grillby doing his best not to stare at the two elementals as they passed them to enter the fortress. They were much more imposing close-up and Grillby now realized they had only looked small to him before because they were beside the King. Now he realized they were almost as tall as Gaster, and they loomed over most of the monsters around them. Grillby really shouldn't be so intimidated by them, he reasoned with himself. They were just monsters. _Important_ monsters. But still _just monsters_. Surely he could speak with them sometime when they were off duty?

Gaster seemed to catch onto his nervousness and the skeleton signed with a laugh, _Don't worry Grillby, I'm sure if you talk to them they'll warm right up to you._

Grillby laughed, signing back with an incredulous grin, _I'm made of fire, Gaster. Anything will warm up to me._

Gaster beamed, _Exactly!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I love the first half of this chapter, it's mostly irrelevent to the plot and that makes me sad. If I cut it out completely, I'm not sure if it would change the rest of the story enough to justify having it. But I also really wanted this scene so... .. . you guys get stuck with it unfortunately.
> 
> So on the off-chance that any of you guys are actually really good ancient/medieval meteorology/astronomy buffs, please forgive any mess-ups on the explaination of how the sky works XD I read through a couple documents and thought I broke it down okay? But at the end of the day I've only been studying this stuff for a few weeks as opposed to months/years that a lot of people can do, so I've probably done something wrong! If I remember right (it's been a hot minute since I wrote this chapter) this is Socrates' theory on the atmosphere/celestial bodies in the sky, based on the earth-centric universe model. If you guys remember from when I talked like... months ago on medieval medicine, they believed everything was connected to the four elements! So obviously the sky works that way as well!
> 
> Also I'm now really glad I kept this buffer since the chapter I've been working on recently has been worked on for the past like... 2 weeks and I haven't gotten anywhere. So there's that as well. Hrghfff. Anywho! Thanks for reading guys :'D and wish me luck finally finishing this chapter I've been working on. Cuz boy howdy if I can't finish it before next Thursday I'm just gonna cut it and call it a day.


	43. Standing Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grillby's state of being comes into question  
> And the elemental is entirely too uncomfortable for it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some question about a beta reader and a possible fanfic tumblr in the author's notes, if you're interested.

As fate would have it, whatever all-important meeting the King had requested, he decided to hold off on until the following day. Amathea had the two of them get ready by dawn, and instructed them to stay in the corner of the barracks they had been assigned to until someone came and got them - which was a maddening wait to say the least. It left Grillby with a lot of time for pacing while Gaster dozed in a hammock nearby, occasionally waking up enough to sign some half-hearted comment about how Grillby was going to pace a hole through the floor. It was mid-morning by the time a monster came to get them, and it was none other than one of the King’s elementals. They waited patiently for Grillby and Gaster to fall into step beside them, some emotion sparkling in their opal-like eyes as they looked Grillby up and down.

“Interesting,” they hummed, their voice resonating somewhere deep in their chest as if it had come from the earth itself. Their tone was a strange mix of masculine and feminine, as if two voices were speaking at once when they talked.

Grillby flickered questioningly back at them, “Something wrong?”

“No,” they answered simply, “I just didn’t expect you to wear armor.”

Grillby glanced down at himself for a moment before answering nervously, “It helps a lot against ice, oddly enough.”

“Hmm,” was the only response he got before the elemental turned and led them off.

Grillby shot Gaster an anxious look, to which the skeleton could only sign with a scowl.

 _You look fine_ \- he signed ‘fine’ with an emphatic flair - _ignore them._

Well, Grillby _tried_ to ignore it at least. But he still couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous. He felt like there was a _wrongness_ about him now, like he shouldn’t look the way he did even though this was how he’d _always looked_. Amathea had worn armor to meet the King hadn’t she? The other commanders had as well. Or was it just that _Grillby_ , an _elemental_ , was wearing armor that was weird? Why did it even matter?

“Grillby,” Gaster hissed, catching the fire elemental’s attention. He offered Grillby a reassuring grin and signed again, slow and deliberate, _you are fine. Calm down._

 _I’m trying,_ Grillby signed back with a rueful smile.

Gaster smirked back, _try harder_.

The stone elemental lead them through the small labyrinth of hallways until they at last emerged into what was normally the dining hall for the barracks - which had been converted into a strategy room of sorts. The tent the other commanders had previously used was proven too small to use - not counting the King and his son, there were eight monster commanders here that Grillby had never met before. Among them was Amathea and Brigg, and the two other commanders that had been in charge of the encampment before the rest of them arrived. All of them stood around one of the long dining tables in the center of the room - the rest of the tables had been crowded towards the back of the stone hall, out of the way for the time being. The King stood at the head of the table, Commander Dreemurr close beside him to his left, while another of his commanders stood to his right.

Amathea was near the far end of the table, and she motioned for Grillby and Gaster to join her. She had explained to them the night before that, as far as hierarchy went, commanders were more important than medical personnel, who were in turn more important than foot soldiers. Though, she had reminded them, neither of them were of a high enough status to sit at the table. That was something reserved for the commanders themselves. So when the meeting began and all the commanders sat, Grillby and Gaster stood shortly behind Amathia - Gaster to her left and Grillby to her right.

To Grillby’s relief, they weren’t the only ones standing. Two of the King’s elementals stood shortly behind him - a precaution against any attempt on his life that might be made. They were mostly for show; it was fairly obvious there was no ill intent in the room. Among the other commanders, there were also a few soldiers hovering behind them. They were likely tactical help of some sort or advisors. Thetis was there as well, standing her report in her hands close by to Brigg and one of the commanders Grillby couldn’t recognize. He also noticed there was one monster standing shortly behind Commander Dreemurr, ink quill and parchment in her hand, taking notes.

With a nod from the King, the meeting began.

It started with a lot of general information that Grillby had a hard time wrapping his mind around. They talked about the numbers of troops each commander had in the units they’d been assigned to. Grillby didn’t know much about any sort of mathematics - he’d never had time to learn - so most of the higher numbers he blinked at uncomprehendingly. Then they talked about numbers in the human army they were to confront, which was really just more numbers that Grillby didn’t know. None of the commanders seemed _too_ worried though, so that was good? Then the King motioned for Thetis to begin, and she began reading off her report to the gathered commanders in the room. Grillby listened intently, eager to hear just what Thetis had said that would bring the King so far North just to discuss it.

Most of the information Grillby already knew. He’d listened to Thetis and Amathea discuss it on their way back from the fight at the bridge. A group of monsters from the western front had been rescued, most of them were unharmed. The small army of humans chasing them had been intent on capture, and not on wiping them out. This left some hope that more of the lost army was alive somewhere, captured and being kept for the gods only knew what reason. What Grillby _hadn’t_ known, and flickered in surprise when he heard, was the monsters who they’d helped had been on their way to a prison camp when they had escaped. Grillby flickered in amazement at this - and respect as well. He couldn’t imagine the courage it had to take to try and escape from a mage like Thistle.

Thetis finished her report by saying the humans were probably capturing monsters in order to study them, and maybe to make this new magic that had shattered apart the lost army in the first place. Thetis had already dispatched some ghosts to the northwest, hoping to find out where some of these captured monsters might be - no word had been heard back yet, and she didn’t expect to hear any for some time.

Next Gaster was invited to speak, and the skeleton talked his way through every scratch and scrape the monsters they’d helped had had on them. Once or twice one of the commanders interrupted him to ask a question, wondering after the monsters’ souls and if they humans had tampered with them in anyway. After all, if humans were stealing monster magic, wouldn’t the monsters themselves show it somehow? But Gaster had seen nothing different in them, and that he knew of, no mage had so much as looked at them. Though he thought it was worth mentioning that most of the monsters they’d rescued were of a certain strength of soul. If the humans were looking for magic, they were looking for strong magic - which the mage they’d met on the bridge certainly had.

Then the conversation cycled to Grillby and the elemental did his best to hide his nervousness as he spoke. He told them everything he remembered about Thistle, everything from her appearance to the strength of her magic and how she’d fought. He earned himself a few uneasy looks when he talked about the walls of water she had summoned, and the powerful magic that had frozen the bridge back into place. There were a few whispers of concern when he sat the icy spearhead on the table. It hadn’t even begun to melt, the magic holding it together persistent and strong. When prompted to, Grillby explained everything of the mage’s monster-like magic that he could remember. Its form and strength and how often she’d used it - as well as the strength of her intent. Somehow he managed to make it through the entire story with only a handful of stutterings.

They asked him to repeat certain parts of his story a couple of times before he and Gaster were dismissed and the commanders got back to their discussion. Grillby just barely managed to snatch up that magical spearhead before they shoved him out the door. For a few minutes the two of them just stood in the hall, sighing the nervous tension out of their souls.

“Well that was fun,” Gaster signed with a smirk as he turned to lead the way away from the meeting hall, “Got to feel important there for a few seconds.”

“Or grim,” Grillby murmured, “It all just sounds like a lot of bad news.”

Gaster shrugged, “It’s war. It’s _always_ bad news. But you know what _isn’t_ bad news?”

The elemental sparked a smile, “What?”

“It’s lunch time!” Gaster declared with a flourish of his hands, “Which means we get to take all the fancy armor off and _eat something_. And I just happen to know a _great_ cook. You’d never believe it, but he’s a fire elemental. Isn’t that great?”

Grillby chuckled and rolled his eyes, “And what if the elemental doesn’t _want_ to cook?”

“Well if _he_ doesn’t cook, _I’ll_ cook,” Gaster said, a mischievous grin spreading across his teeth, “And when I cook, I don’t just burn the food. I set the whole campsite on fire! But that’s okay, because my fire elemental friend also knows how to put out fires? So I’m sure I won’t _completely destroy_ everything!”

Grillby flickered a resigned smile and sighed, “I guess your friend will have to cook then. But you’re helping find ingredients.”

“Yes!” Gaster laughed, pumping his fists in the air, “And after all that, I might even have time to get a nap in today!”

Getting supplies turned out to be more of an ordeal than it should have been, what with all the soldiers now crawling through every corner of the encampment. Grillby felt claustrophobic, constantly cramped and contained, flame flickering low and cool so he didn’t accidentally burn anyone. Most of his conversation was taken up by apologies when he bumped into one monster or another - most didn’t pay him much attention, but he felt self-conscious anyway. Gaster tried to help, inching Grillby to one side or the other with blue when they passed close to a group of people, sometimes volunteering to run to a cart ahead of them to grab something out from the middle of a particularly close bunch of monsters.

After what seemed like hours, Grillby was sitting beside a cook fire in a corner of the encampment, waiting for their lunch to finish simmering. He’d made enough to share with the monsters they’d borrowed the fire from - since the new soldiers had arrived, there had been no room for Grillby to make his own. The monsters he’d borrowed from were some of the King’s men themselves. He didn’t recognize a single face among them, and they all tended to stare in his direction every few minutes. It left Grillby flickering nervously, feeling overly conspicuous just sitting there cooking. Gaster smirked at him, shot the monsters a sideways glance, and then signed.

_You’d think they’d never seen an elemental before._

Grillby crackled an apprehensive laugh and signed back, _Maybe they’re just not used to seeing one cook?_

Gaster shrugged, “Yeah… The King’s escort doesn’t look like they do much more than stand around and intimidate people.”

“Well at least it’s something they’re good at,” Grillby flickered a frown.

The skeleton grinned, “Hey you know what you should do? You should go spar with them.”

Grillby crackled in an incredulous spark - startling one of the monsters standing nearby, “Why in _heaven’s name_ would I ever do that?”

Gaster laughed, “Why not? That’s how you and I made friends, isn’t it?”

In spite of himself Grillby managed to joke, “We’re friends?”

Gaster feigned a hurt look, his hand flying up to his ribcage in a dramatic gasp, “ _Really_ Grillby? After _everything_ we’ve been through?!”

The two burst into a fit of laughter, cut short when Grillby finally managed to grin, “No but in all seriousness, that did _not_ make us friends. I’m pretty sure we were friends when I saved you from those monsters you cheated at knucklebones.”

“Ah, _knucklebones_ ,” Gaster sighed in exaggerated wistfulness, “I still think I could’ve chased those guys off by myself.”

“Yeah sure. And that’s why you were running away, right?” Grillby chuckled.

“I like to think of it more like… a tactical retreat,” Gaster smirked, “But we’re not talking about _me_ , right now. We’re talking about _you_ and your elemental problems.”

Grillby rolled his eyes, lighting up in a smile, “I’m not sparring with them.”

“Okay fine,” Gaster chuckled, holding his hands up placatingly, “Why don’t you go ask Ammy for advice then? I mean, it’s not like the last friend _she_ made almost _challenged her to a duel_ or anything.”

The elemental laughed and rested his head in his hand resignedly, “I have a great idea. Why don’t I ask _neither_ of you for advice and just… not talk to them ever.”

“Because that’s _boring_ ,” Gaster whined, “Come on, doesn’t it sound _cool_ to have an awesome spar with another elemental? Magic explosions everywhere! Rocks flying! Big… you know… fire… swoosh-sounds?”

Grillby shook his head, “That’s just it though. It might _look_ cool, but it’s pointless. Neither of us can hurt each other. Sure we can toss a lot of magic around but… the match would end when one of us just gave up. We might as well be having a staring contest.”

“All the more reason to do it!” Gaster laughed, “I mean, think about it. They’ve probably only ever sparred with each other right? They haven’t had a challenge in a while. _You_ haven’t had a challenging sparring partner that wasn’t, you know, trying to dust you. Or tossing you around the sparring grounds with blue all the time.”

“You’re getting stronger with that, by the way,” Grillby hummed, finally dishing out the food that had been simmering.

Gaster beamed as he grabbed the bowl Grillby offered to him, “I _know_ and it’s _great_. But back to the sparring thing - while we’re here in camp they’re bound to train amongst themselves at some point. If you see them then just… you know… ask if you can join.”

Gaster’s smile turned wide and mischievous, “Or _I_ could ask _for_ you, but I don’t think you want that.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Grillby snorted a laugh, “Now eat something before it gets cold. Your _elemental friend_ isn’t going to warm it back up for you later no matter how much you try and persuade him.”

They ate and talked and Grillby cleaned up what mess he could while still leaving the food behind for the monsters standing nearby. When they shambled their way back into their room of the barracks, Amathea was already there sprawled out as best she could on one of the hammocks. When Grillby asked if she was alright she just mumbled about how exhausting war meetings were and turned her back to them, determined to get a long nap in before she was inevitably summoned back to discuss further tactics. Grillby had to wonder how sitting and talking all day could possibly take so much out of a monster - if she was half as nervous as Grillby had been, he could understand it he guessed. It was hard to imagine Amathea could be nervous about anything, though.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Grillby found himself back at the forges helping some of the blacksmiths as they worked while Gaster flitted around to different healing tents. The elemental mostly just helped regulate temperature - he had no idea how to forge steel and didn’t have much interest in learning. He had to admit it was fascinating to watch the other monsters work though, and in turn they seemed to find his control over all the blazes in the room interesting enough. A few of them would pause in their work to ask him a few questions about how his magic worked - which he would answer as best he could. Once or twice Grillby caught sight of one of the King’s soldiers staring at him questioningly from the smith doorway before disappearing again. He… did his best to ignore them.

Some good did come out of the small adventure though - aside from the help to the blacksmiths at least. One of them had heard of Grillby’s fight with Thistle and asked to see the little piece of magic she’d left behind with him. All the workers paused for a few moments to listen to Grillby’s story - which he told much less grandly than Amathea would have - and to stare at the small, glimmering piece of ice. One of them mentioned it being a sign of good fortune - a piece of magic that had meant to kill him, which he had somehow endured against. By the end of the evening, that same smith fashioned Grillby a small hook and chain with scraps he’d had left behind. He left Grillby with a necklace of iron and magic, the chain just long enough that the dangerous piece of ice hung harmlessly against the chest of his tunic instead of stinging against his neck.

When Grillby left in the evening he was surprised to run into one of the stone elementals standing shortly outside the forge doors. He flickered up at them, fire spinning in nervous and apologetic colors. They just blinked back, their white, opalescent eyes sparkling in mild puzzlement.

“Sorry,” Grillby sparked worriedly, “I uh… didn’t see you there.”

There was an awkward pause where they didn’t respond and Grillby cleared his throat nervously.

“I’m not sure we’ve met before,” he started again, “I’m Grillby…?”

He thought for two seconds about calling himself the Mage-Slayer before deciding no, that was a terrible way to introduce himself. For now, anyway. The stone elemental just crossed their arms, their brow furrowing slightly.

“You… _are_ the elemental that Amathea was escorting, aren’t you?” the asked finally, their strange split voice seeming to ring in conflicting tones.

“Uhm… yes! I am, actually,” Grillby responded a bit more confidently, “Why? Was I needed for something?”

They studied him for a long moment, their gaze cool and searching, before finally saying, “You mingle with them quite a lot don’t you?”

Grillby flickered in questioning colors, “Not… really? I normally just stick with my escort. But I was asked to help back in the forges today so-”

The elemental let out a chuckle, the strange split of their voice making the sound seem to echo, “All of the monsters in the forge with you just now. You spoke with them. Told them stories. You didn’t even try to stand apart from them.”

“Oh. Well, no, I didn’t,” Grillby was beyond confused now. And feeling a bit like he was being interrogated. Was it really this elemental’s business who he did and didn’t talk to, “What does it matter?”

To this, the elemental raised the stony ridge that Grillby assumed had to be their eyebrows.

“They’ll make your soul weaker,” came the hummed reply, “You should be careful with how close you get to them.”

Grillby flickered at them in confusion and surprise. The elemental patiently smiled and explained, “You are not like them. You were summoned for a single purpose and you will persist until that purpose is accomplished - whether that means living for a hundred years or a thousand. Kings perish. Kingdoms fall. Elementals endure. That is our nature. When you tangle your soul up with monsters, you become weaker. It clouds your judgement. Makes you do ridiculous things.”

Their gaze became a bit more stern, eyes churning with the soft colors of Grillby’s flame, “My partners and I have been given the day tomorrow to recuperate before the march ahead. I extend you the offer to join us. Perhaps we can remind you what you were summoned for?”

Without another word they turned and left. They didn’t even bother to tell Grillby their name. Grillby watched them leave, for the moment struck dumb by everything the stone elemental had said, his soul giving uncomfortable, worried shudders in his chest. He felt so small, like a child standing in the shadow of a stern parent. And he felt wrong and awkward, and it took him a moment to gather himself back together again and walk away. His mind kept buzzing with half-finished thoughts and questions, and a gathering, bitter feeling of _wrongness_.

Well… at least… the elemental’s intentions seemed… good. They didn’t mean to make him feel as… incompetent… as he did now… right? They seemed almost worried, and questioning. Surely they meant no harm…? But what in the _world_ was all that? All that talk about purpose, insinuating he was weaker somehow. It was all so confusing and misplaced. Grillby sure didn’t _feel_ weak. If anything he’d gotten nothing but stronger. He knew more, he was better at strategy, at using his magic. Deeper than that even. He felt… _warm_. He felt _content_. Or he had until he’d spoken with the elemental at least. Now he wasn’t so sure.

The stone elemental just seemed so… cold. And distant. And… Grillby didn’t really know how to describe it. It was a troubling feeling. Just… a feeling that something was wrong. It was a feeling that was familiar, and one that Grillby didn’t care for having. For a little while he’d thought he’d never feel it again, but here it was, back and biting at his core like slivers of ice.

When he made it back to the barracks, he flickered a half-hearted smile when he saw Gaster sprawled across a hammock, fast asleep and snoring loudly. His thin hands were cupped on his chest above his soul, and Grillby had to wonder if the skeleton hadn’t fallen asleep while working on something. Grillby had to stamp away the thought that Gaster may have broken something again - the skeleton would’ve told him if something like that had happened… right? Meanwhile Amathea was pulling her boots off and getting ready to settle in for the night. She looked tired, as if the nap from earlier hadn’t helped her at all. Whatever the commanders were discussing, it was taking a lot out of her.

“Meetings went well, I take it?” Grillby asked with a quiet chuckle, and Amathea flashed him a withering grin.

“Aye about as well as a rowboat in a hurricane,” she grumbled, “But I think we’ve got some strategies planned to help us against more Thistle Bayhavens. So _that’s_ good at least.”

She flashed him a friendlier smile, “How about you, tinderbox? You seem tired.”

“Helped with the forges, talked to an elemental,” Grillby sighed as he sat against the wall beside her, “I’m… thinking about a lot.”

“Didn’t you want to meet another elemental?”

“Yeah… I did…” Grillby flickered through a few troubled hues of green and fading red, “Ammy, have you ever escorted an elemental besides me?”

“No,” Amathea said after a pause, “But I did know a few back home.”

“What were they like?”

Amathea slumped back in her hammock, lips pursed and ear frills twitching as she thought for a moment, “Well mostly they kept to themselves, quiet folk, didn’t like stirring up trouble. The only one of them I knew _well_ was Brine. He was a water elemental who took to flirting around with Irade and Thetis. Caused a good bit of mischief between the two of them before I roughed him up.”

Her face split in a rueful grin and she admitted a bit reluctantly, “Well… I _tried_ to rough him up anyway. As much as any _normal_ monster can rough up an _elemental_. He was just a selfish bastard who liked taking advantage of lonely sailors. Found some kindness in his heart to teach me and Thetis how to sing when he wasn’t stealing all our ale, though. So I owe him that much.”

Grillby nodded and frowned down at his boots. Amathea raised an eyebrow at him.

“Any particular reason you were wondering after that?”

Grillby continued frowning at his shoes for a few seconds before saying, “I’m just… confused.”

“About what?”

“Well,” Grillby leaned his head back against the wall behind him as he sighed, “The King’s elementals think I’m weak and… I don't know why.”

Amathea let out a sharp, angry laugh - one that was loud enough to make Gaster stir in his sleep. She leaned over the side of her hammock to catch Grillby in an indignant glare, “Did you tell ‘em they’re full of shit?!”

Grillby sparked an embarrassed laugh, “No, I didn’t.”

Amathea let out a huff and settled back down again. Grillby hissed out a sigh of smoke.

“They said I was getting distracted from my purpose.”

When Grillby glanced back at Amathea, she was scowling at some space in the ceiling, her breathing just a little too tense to be normal. She looked _angry_.

Finally she muttered out a bitter, “Well don’t listen to a single word of it.”

Grillby didn’t answer. That biting, shivering feeling was welling up inside his soul again and he didn’t want it. It was a reflex feeling, one that they had told him to feel when he’d been summoned. One his first escort had reinforced in him. One that Gerson had started to melt away when he’d treated Grillby like an actual monster instead of… well… an elemental. It was that uncomfortable, crawling feeling that Gaster had questioned when he’d first asked Grillby why he bothered to fight in a war that wasn’t his.

“They asked me to join them tomorrow while they were preparing for the next battle,” Grillby murmured after a few silent minutes.

“Take Gaster with you,” Amathea said sharply.

Grillby sparked out a quiet laugh, “I don’t think they wanted me to bring friends.”

“Fine then, he’s not a friend. He’s an aid to your escort and he goes where you go,” Amathea groused, rolling over on her hammock so that her back was turned to Grillby, “Just take him with you.”

Grillby nodded and wished her a quiet goodnight. He didn’t bother moving to walk to a hammock of his own. He was too busy… thinking… worrying. He wondered if he’d get any sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me tell you how close we were to me editing out that part about the elementals and just skipping to the scene two chapters from now?  
> Cuz let me tell you that stubborn chapter I've been having problems with for the last three weeks? I finished it _last night_. We were like 8 hours away from me saying screw it and deleting everything. I don't even want to revise it now. I am actively dreading revising it. --sigh--
> 
> Anyway! Because I had such a hard time with the last chapter, I wanted to open it up to a beta reader for some outside crit before I give it a rest. I'm currently incapable of judging it clearly, I just hate it way too much. I only need one or two people, preferably with writing-critique experience but it's not mandatory. It's mostly editing dialogue work I think, and it will only be for this chapter (unless another problem child arises, where I might ask again). This is also the chapter for _next Thursday_ , so I would need the edits back before the end of the weekend, so I have time to implement them.
> 
> A second question here now! Uh... I've seen some writers make Tumblrs for their fanfics before, and while I have a personal Tumblr it gets pretty cluttered XD so I was thinking about making just a side account for my fanfiction stuff. I could answer asks, and you'd get to watch me post random stuff about chapters as I write them. I'd also reblog any fanart there, and post personal art as well (I draw a small amount of Casting Rain stuff XD which sounds a bit conceited I guess, but I really like this story). Anyway uh.... do you think I should make one, and would you follow it if I did? Or should I just leave things as they are? :3


	44. Unstable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn a lot about elementals that's troubling, and Gaster isn't liking a single word of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart feature :'D  
> Gawd  
> It's so adorable just fffffffffff  
> Flyingshadow451 on deviantart has made this [ adorable drawing of Grillby meeting one of the stone elementals](http://flyingshadow451.deviantart.com/art/Standing-Apart-637279907). I love all the colors in the little flame's flame :D
> 
> Alsooooooooooo! I did end up making that Tumblr account. Feel free to follow at your contentment! Just search for "theblogofcastingrain" in the Tumblr search and I'm like... the only blog that pops up! Asks are open, submissions aren't... I don't think... hmmm gonna have to check that again. But! I'm taking doodle requests of the gang for Inktober, and also writing requests and questions and things. So join me if you'd like! :)

That night Grillby had something he couldn’t rightly call a nightmare. It was unsettling, but it was nothing like the shiver-inducing terror his previous nightmares had held for him. But before he could grasp it long enough to remember what it was, a persistent nudging dragged him awake. Grillby blinked tiredly up at Gaster. The skeleton was smiling at him, excitement gleaming in the depths of his eye sockets.

“Well it’s _about time_ ,” Gaster grinned when the elemental finally yawned and stretched, “You planning on sleeping all day?”

Grillby chuckled and allowed himself to be helped to his feet, “You’re just upset because I make the breakfast around here.”

He flickered a frown when he noticed Amathea was gone, “Wow, she’s being sucked into meetings _already_?”

“Yeah, she woke me up a while ago when she left. Guess they’ve still got a lot of planning to do,” Gaster smirked, “I’m surprised she can get up in time for that stuff.”

“Yes well, if you had your way you’d _nap_ the day away,” Grillby chuckled, “Come on. Let’s get some breakfast.”

“ _Only_ breakfast?” Gaster hummed expectantly, the ridge above his unbroken eye raising coyly as he followed Grillby from the room.

“Uh… Not sure what else we _could_ have,” Grillby laughed with a flustered spark.

“Oh come _on_ Grillby,” Gaster grinned and signed excitedly, “There’s absolutely _nothing else_ that you could _possibly_ want to do today?”

“Not really?” Grillby smirked confusedly.

Gaster laughed exasperatedly, finally signing in big emphatic movements, “The other elementals, Grillby!”

“Oh…” he’d hoped to forget about that, “Ammy told you about that… did she?”

“Well _yeah_ ,” Gaster chuckled, “I’m supposed to be your stand-in escort for the day - or something _like it_ anyway? I don’t know really. Hopefully nobody expects me to know what I’m doing-”

Gaster stopped mid-sentence and mid-stride when he realized Grillby wasn’t walking with him anymore. He caught the elemental in a concerned smirk, “What?”

Grillby frowned at the stone beneath his feet, flame flickering through pale and worried hues. Finally he hissed out a sigh, “Maybe… It’s not such a good idea to meet them.”

“Oh _come on_ Grillby,” Gaster groaned good-naturedly and rolled his eyes, “Look I know you’re nervous, but seriously, even if you _do_ embarrass yourself, what are the odds you’re ever going to see them again?”

For a few seconds Grillby just stood there, shifting through uncomfortable colors. That creeping, icy feeling was wriggling its way through his chest again and he felt… tense.

“I’m not… nervous,” the elemental finally said, and flickered a humorless smile when Gaster scoffed at him, “Really, I’m not.”

He moved to join Gaster again, and together the two of them walked out of the barracks and towards the morning. More to himself than Gaster, Grillby muttered, “Just don’t take anything they say too seriously.”

It was midmorning by the time Grillby and Gaster finally made their way to the elementals. Though the encampment itself was small, with so many new monsters inside it there was quite a struggle to find anything - even something so out-of-the-ordinary as a group of stone elementals. For a few glimmering, hesitant seconds Grillby had to wonder if the King had needed them last-minute, and Grillby wouldn’t _actually_ have to meet with them. The nervous, unsettling tension he’d awoken with quickly turned to anxious dread when a monster pointed them in the right direction.

The two of them walked out of camp into the less claustrophobic space beyond it, where a large group of monsters had begun training and drilling -- and where off to the side, isolated from the rest of the monsters, the stone elementals watched. Their bejeweled eyes gave the most imperceptible flickers of amusement as the spoke quietly with each other. Huddled together like that, they looked a _little_ less imposing than when they were on horseback or standing guard.

“This is going to be _amazing_ ,” Gaster whispered to Grillby, “You elementals are _awesome_. I can’t wait to see their magic.”

He split into a grin when Grillby said nothing, “And you said you weren’t _nervous_.”

Grillby managed an anxious laugh back. Maybe Gaster was right. Maybe Grillby was just nervous.

_Or maybe he really didn’t want to be here._

The elemental who approached him the night before was the first to notice him coming. Their opal eyes turned in strange colors and their mouth parted in a smile, “There you are!”

They moved to meet him, clasping a hand firmly yet welcomingly on Grillby’s shoulder. Grillby’s core gave the smallest of shudders. He could _feel_ the other elemental’s magic seeping into his, the emotions behind it, the intent. He probably should have known that would happen. Grillby could always feel these things when other monsters’ magic passed through him, and elementals were made completely of magic in one form or another.

Still, the feelings that swept through Grillby in that touch - cold, muted, dull, as if they weren’t fully felt - they were unsettling. Grillby’s soul turned in his chest. Another feeling came to him as well, more thought than magic. It was like peering into the elemental’s soul: _His name was Terros_.

“It’s about time you found us, Grillby,” Terros hummed - though the pleasantry in his voice didn’t make it to the feeling of his magic, “For a moment I thought I’d scared you off.”

“To be fair, it’s not that hard to do,” Gaster signed with a smile. He offered a hand to Terros to shake, and the elemental accepted it with a nod, “Wing Ding Gaster. Just Gaster works fine though.”

“Terros, summoned in summer,” he answered simply; “You are... a friend of Amathea’s?”

“Oh yeah!” Gaster smiled excitedly, his hands a flurry of signing movement, “Me and Ammy have known each other for a few years now. Er… she asked me to stick with Grillby today. You know, since she’s meeting with his Royal Highness.”

Terros smiled, “I see. Well, he will be perfectly safe with us here. If there’s anything you’d rather be doing than watching over a bunch of elementals?”

The excitement on Gaster’s face dulled slowly into confusion, “Uh… _safe_?”

“I understand the concern,” Terros continued unfazed, “A group of elementals getting together can be a bit nerve-wracking for other monsters. But I can assure you none of us are even the smallest bit unstable, and I doubt we’d be doing anything today that might cause any upset in your charge.”

Grillby flickered a frown at this, a bit of anger bubbling up slowly in his chest. _Unstable?_ He was _not_ unstable! But Gaster was already rebounding, and signing quickly.

“Oh! Uh, no I’m not worried about anything like that,” he said with a nervous laugh, “Really! I study magic, and I was just hoping to be here to see some of yours. I’m kind of Grillby’s escort for the day…? But really I’m more here as a friend.”

There was a pause where Terros looked between Gaster and Grillby a bit disbelievingly, before he shrugged and said, “Alright. Do as you wish.”

Then to Grillby he smiled, “Come. I’d like you to meet the others.”

As they followed, Gaster flashed a confused frown at Grillby, signing incredulously, _What was that about?_

Grillby sighed and didn’t bother signing back. Today was going to be a _long_ day, he could tell already.

Terros introduced Grillby to the others, and Grillby did his best to remember their names. It was… interesting… trying to tell them apart. There weren’t many differences between the four of them. Gravin, was the tallest out of the four, just barely; and also the quietest. They had dull, reddish eyes that caught subtly in the light when they inclined their head towards Grillby in greeting. Grillby also noticed a crisscrossing of patterns across their arms, and a bit across the neck and chest that was exposed from their tunic. The patterns were long and branching, cracks in the stone of the elemental’s form that served to make them seem ancient. In a way, the elemental themself reminded Grillby of the walls of Adwick he’d seen what seemed like forever ago now - old as time itself, but forever standing.

There was also Umber, whose pleasantness seemed a bit more whole-hearted than whatever it was that Terros had. They offered Grillby a hearty handshake upon meeting him, but before they could actually touch, Umber yanked his hand away - laughing a joke about being burned. Grillby… had a hard time seeing the humor in it, somehow managing to force a flickering smile. It didn’t matter much though - Umber laughed as if it were the funniest thing they’d ever said, pale blue eyes flashing as they did so.

The last was Ora, who was the shortest of the four and the roughest, as far as the stone on their form went. They were the elemental with jade eyes that had first noticed Grillby in the crowd, and they smiled excitedly when they were introduced. When they shook hands, Ora pulled him closer and yanked up his sleeve in the same motion. Grillby couldn’t help but spark in surprise. His discomfort had to be pouring through his magic in waves, but if Ora felt it they - no, _she_ , Grillby realized through her touch - paid it no mind. Instead she radiated back at him giddy excitement.

“What in the _world_ are you doing?” Umber laughed, the split tone in their voice sounding nearly deeper than the earth itself, “Leave the poor boy alone.”

“He’s made of _fire_ though!” Ora protested, “And he feels _warm_.”

“Seriously?”

“Fire… tends to do that,” Grillby stammered, ducking a bit when Umber moved to tower over him. Grillby was _seriously_ wondering if he should be trying to pull his arm back or not. But they weren’t hurting anything and he certainly couldn’t burn them… right…?

Ora released him, their voice chiming in an echoing laugh, “Sorry sorry! I’ve just… never met an elemental that wasn’t made of stone, you know? You’re so _different_.”

Umber grinned above him, “The warmth is new as well! It’s a little hard to feel things like that through _stone_ , wouldn’t you know it?”

“Do _you_ feel warm things?” Ora asked suddenly, eyes wide and sparkling.

Grillby flickered nervously, taking a step back away from them - just in case they moved to grab at him again, “Mostly just cool… really. Except maybe in the forges, or inside a large fire.”

He added mostly as an afterthought, “Your hands feel cold to me.”

If Ora’s eyes could’ve gotten any bigger, they would have, and Grillby couldn’t help but smile at it. The elemental was almost as curious about their first meeting as Gaster had been - and that was a feat! Gaster himself was standing off to the side, looking every bit as curious about the whole exchange was Ora was. And he was signing to himself, taking mental notes Grillby was sure. Grillby had to fight not to roll his eyes at it.

“You’ll have to forgive Ora,” Terros hummed, “She’s the youngest. They summoned her just a few years ago, when the King grew interested in fighting in the war himself.”

“I was summoned in fall!” Ora declared pridefully, “What about you Grillby?”

“Winter,” Grillby smirked, “Uh… just last year, actually.”

“Huh, weird time of year for a fire elemental,” Terros chuckled, “I would’ve expected summer.”

“You’re so _young_ ,” Umber rumbled, “And you’ve already been fighting? Ora hasn’t even seen her first battle yet. Well… not a _real_ one.”

“Do you still remember who summoned you?”

All heads turned to Gravin, who had finally spoken. They uncrossed their mighty arms and sat down in the grass, motioning for the others to sit as well. Then they hummed, and Grillby could feel their voice shudder him all the way down to his soul.

“I was summoned by our King’s father, long before His Majesty took the throne,” Gravin explained, “It seems as if an eternity has passed; I no longer remember what he looked like outside of paintings. But I remember his voice. It was the first voice that ever spoke to me.”

Grillby sank down to his knees, leaves crackling beneath him as he moved. Ora sat close beside him - of course - watching his every movement as if she’d never see it again. Gaster darted over to sit at Grillby’s other side, his own eye sockets shining with that hungry curiosity Grillby knew him for.

“Well…” Grillby breathed, tilting his head to the side as if the motion could help him remember, “I remember there was more than one of them. I woke up in a circle of light, completely surrounded by monsters. And…”

Grillby scowled. An overwhelming feeling of cold washed over him, the smell of the inside of a cramped tent, wafting campfire smoke and painfully bright light. He remembered being summoned, he remembered being scared. He remembered feeling… a little less _real_ than everything else around him.

“Grillby?” Gaster was watching him, a worried frown on his teeth.

Grillby shook his head, shooing the memory away before he could conjure up any more of it, “I don’t… remember much worth mentioning.”

Grillby hissed out a breath of smoke before adding, “I _do_ remember the first voice that spoke to me though. She was tired, and… I’m not sure I ever saw her again. I was given away to an escort pretty quickly to train with, and none of them really bothered to tell me their names.”

“Huh, rude,” Gaster snorted.

“It’s best that way,” Terros said, their fragmenting voice aloof and cold, “Elementals work best when they don’t have any… _distractions_.”

Gaster frowned at this, but before he could form a proper question to ask, Umber was running away with the conversation again, remembering fondly when they had been summoned. From the sound of it, they could have talked for hours on their first day of life. They remembered their first smell - damp earth, they’d been summoned in a cave by a handful of _humans_. It had been summer, and they’d used the elemental to build a great monument of stone maybe a year or so before the main fighting of the war had started. When the humans were finished, they had intended to dispel Umber, send them back wherever their soul was summoned from. But the elemental proudly boasted that they had been too strong for them and escaped.

Grillby couldn’t remember nearly as much about the weeks following his summoning. It was all just a blurry haze of _new_. He _did_ remember his first escort. How the monster hadn’t even bothered to tell Grillby his name. How every day he was told to repeat his purpose. How this was the only thing he was summoned for. He remembered being told he wasn’t a monster. He was _something else_. And no one bothered to tell him if _something else_ was good or bad. If being an _elemental_ was good, they why had all of them treated him like he wasn’t completely real?

Grillby frowned confusedly.

Why did Gaster and Amathea bother to treat him so much differently than they had?

“So why stone elementals specifically?” Gaster’s voice cut short Grillby’s train of thought, “Wouldn’t it have been easier for the King to just… grab a few elementals who were stationed in the capital?”

Terros smiled at this, “It might have been _easier_ sure, but at the end of the day, you need the strongest and the most stable elementals to protect the King himself. And you don’t find many elementals more powerful than stone.”

Gaster shot Grillby a sideways look, raising the ridge above his unbroken eye quizzically, “Really? Cuz I’ve seen Grillby do some _pretty amazing_ things.”

Before Grillby could stop himself he was flushing in hot colors, flustered blues and greens rippling through his flame. He muttered with an embarrassed spark, “I’ve done very _normal_ things.”

“Don’t belittle yourself Grillby,” Terros chuckled, “Flame elementals are quite impressive. And you’ve begun setting yourself apart from the rest haven’t you? What with this… Mage-Slayer titleship.”

“You have a _title?_ ” Ora gasped, bejeweled eyes glittering in awe, “How did you get that?”

“Well it wasn’t… a big deal really…” Grillby sputtered nervously.

Grillby was immediately met with an uproar of excited babbling from the monsters around him - along with some laughed signing from Gaster as well. Most of the noise came from Umber and Ora, who insisted he start telling them about his adventures - did they even count as adventures? - and how he’d gotten this new fated name. Then there was Terros, reassuring Grillby that he really was being too modest, and Gravin, who silenced them all by saying if Grillby shared some of his stories, they would share some of their own.

And so, with a little more encouragement from Gaster’s excited signing, Grillby began. He… honestly didn’t even know where to start. The past year had been so eventful. Damning and hopeful. Grillby was equal parts glad to be alive and surprised he’d made it this far at all. So he started with the first thing he could remember, the very first battle he was ever put forward to face a mage, a battle he’d fought with Gerson before Amathea and Gaster had walked into his life. It was a tame story, lacking any of the near-death anxiety of recent months, but it left Ora watching him with awe, and gleaned a few nods of approval from the elementals around him. And then there was Gaster, who’d never heard the story before, and who soaked it in with quizzical wonder, signing questions to himself to ask later.

When he was finished, Gravin spoke slow and calm about the first mage they remembered fighting - one years ago before the war between monsters and humans had even started. They talked about using stone to build walls and labyrinths, trapping the wretched terror inside before pulling the world down around them. It was… amazing to listen to, to imagine how another elemental could work.

Then Grillby was talking again, this time a little more boldly, about the battles he’d faced and the mages he’d seen. Honestly, Grillby could’ve talked like that for hours, sitting in the shadow of an elemental that had seen years more than Grillby could ever imagine. As they swapped stories it became obvious that Gravin was the oldest there, and the most experienced in battle. Terros only had one story to tell, and then the battle had been over before they had ever faced the mage they’d seen. Meanwhile Umber and Ora sat awestruck, neither of them having ever faced a mage before.

Grillby had… never realized just how much he’d fought in the short time he was alive. He told them about the mage that had almost killed him, the one who’d cast the rain spell, and watched as even Gravin leaned forward ever so slightly, eager to hear how Grillby had managed to survive - and all of them looked surprised to know it was Gaster that had saved him. He told them about Thistle, and showed them the piece of magic she’d left in him and the scar in his side. And Grillby noticed the amazement around him turned a bit more somber - Ora especially seemed scared. Grillby flickered with a hint of nervousness.

Listening to him speak, the war was becoming real for them, and he could see it. Suddenly it wasn’t just stories of grandeur. Suddenly their mortality was becoming a bit more real. Grillby had seen that look on the faces of every monster in every unit he’d been apart of. He’d seen it in Gaster. He’d felt it in himself.

“You’ve been through much, little brother,” Gravin said at long last, after Grillby had exhausted the stories he could tell, “But you’ve come through it strong, even by elemental standards. You have a lot to be proud of.”

“He deserves a medal,” Gaster mused, “Maybe after all this is over, you’ll get some recognition Grillby.”

“I doubt they’d bother,” Umber hummed, “Elementals get dispelled after they’ve completed their purpose. But it _is_ a nice thought, isn’t it?”

Gaster blinked at Umber uncomprehendingly, a frown writhing it’s way across his teeth, “Wait… what?”

“We are summoned for only one purpose,” Umber explained slowly, confusedly and with a casual smile, as if he couldn't understand Gaster’s confusion, “When our usefulness has been exhausted, whatever mage summoned us will just send our magic away again. Even we, as the King’s escorts, aren’t excluded. In times of peace, the King will have no need of a bunch of elementals to fight with him in battle. They’ll dispel all of us… except perhaps Gravin. He’s been a part of the King’s court for so long I doubt they’d lose him now.”

There it was again, that creeping, icy, clawing feeling rising up in Grillby’s chest. Though instead of the slow crawl of it he’d felt the night before, now it devoured him in leaps and bounds. A numbing feeling, something that dragged his thoughts away. That familiar feeling that overcame him the first time he was summoned, when he realized the monsters around him could care less he was there. That feeling that enveloped him while he was with his first escort.

 _Worthless_. But in a way that wasn’t self-depreciating. _Expendable_.

Gaster frowned at Umber, his hands signing through a few troubled sentences before he finally settled on what he was going to say, “I’m... sure that won’t be the case. I mean, nobody can expect you to fight and die for them only to throw you away after this is over.”

Terros laughed at this, earning himself an incredulous look from Gaster, “Be careful there friend. You’re starting to talk like we’re actually monsters.”

“But… you _are_ ,” Gaster said with a humorless, confused laugh before turning to blink in Grillby’s direction, looking for some sort of validation.

Grillby flickered an uncomfortable frown, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “I mean… _I_ think we are. But you’ve said so before yourself, a lot of monsters would argue otherwise.”

“ _Most_ monsters would argue otherwise,” Terros spoke up then, their voice cool and emotionless, “And they’d be right. We’re powerful creatures but without a purpose, we’re destructive and unstable. That’s why we’re summoned for war, or to build towers, or to guard tombs and similar things. A mother doesn’t summon a creature like us because they want a child, or a lonely monster because they want companionship. We’re summoned to be _used_.”

Gaster frowned thoughtfully before speaking, and this time Grillby noticed the skeleton wasn’t signing. Even his voice was quieting, ever so slightly, “So... _your_ purpose then. It’s to protect the King, right? And that’s the only thing you’ll ever do?”

Terros straightened a bit, prideful and confident, “Exactly! We are to keep the King from falling in battle, using whatever means necessary to us.”

“And what happens if you fail that?”

The stone elemental was unfazed, “Then I will protect whoever succeeds him, or be dispelled.”

Gaster once again cast his gaze towards Grillby, “And what about you. What was the purpose they gave you when you were summoned?”

Some reflex Grillby forgot he had sent a bitter pang through his chest and he said quickly, “Protect the monsters in my unit, follow orders.”

Gaster blinked at him for a moment, surprised by the sudden answer. Then he asked, “And what happens if you can’t do that?”

Grillby hesitated for a second before saying, “If I _can’t_ do that? Nothing, since I’m probably dead.”

“ _Okay_. What if you just… decided not to?”

Grillby coughed a laugh at this, “I can’t just… _not_ follow orders.”

“What if the orders are unreasonable?” Gaster persisted, and Grillby flinched against the bitter edge building in his friend’s voice, “Like… when that mage cast the rain spell. If Amathea had ordered you to keep fighting, _that’s_ unreasonable. She’d be leading you straight to your death. You wouldn’t have questioned that?”

Grillby clasped his hands together to keep from fidgeting nervously. He _really_ didn’t like where this conversation had headed. His stomach was twisting into knots just thinking about… _everything_. But he already knew his answer, and he knew Gaster wouldn’t like it.

“No,” Grillby answered slowly, his voice a sigh of smoke, “I wouldn't have.”

“And what would happen if you did?”

Grillby let out a nervous chuckle, “I mean, that’s _not_ what happened, so there’s no use really worrying about it-” Gaster raised the ridge above his unbroken eye, and Grillby flickered a frown - “If I disobey any orders, I’m labeled unstable.”

Gaster blinked at the elemental uncomprehendingly, and Grillby explained slowly, trying his hardest to keep his nervousness out of his voice as he spoke, “If I’m unstable, that means I could turn against the monsters I’m supposed to be working for - and there are very few monsters out here who could stop me if that happened so it’s… a big deal. Amathea could still decide to just punish me for the insubordination, but most likely she’d have me killed because of the threat I’d pose to the units I’m attached to.”

Grillby crackled a bitter spark, “They give us escorts who are strong enough to deal with us for that reason. Amathea has her singing magic. Gerson had water magic. I’m sure my first escort also had some kind of magic they could have killed me with if they’d needed to.”

Suddenly Gaster was looking at Grillby as if he were seeing the elemental for the first time, and Grillby could do nothing more than flicker self-consciously in return.

Finally Gaster mused - more to himself than anyone else, “I guess I’m learning all _kinds_ of new things today.”

The other elementals began speaking again, their conversation meandering slowly from one topic to another - sometimes broken by a peppering of questions from Gaster, or Ora when she thought of something new to ask Grillby. It was sickeningly casual, as if everything they’d just heard was completely normal - but then again, for elementals, it was supposed to be. It had been like this since before even Gravin had been summoned, and it would always be this way. Grillby did his best to keep up with the conversation, but the nervous stillness that had fallen over Gaster kept pulling at his attention. He could tell the skeleton was worried, and his imagination was probably running wild with a thousand different thoughts that he _shouldn’t_ be thinking. Grillby wanted to reassure him, but really the elemental had no idea what to say. And that cold feeling was clawing at him again, making him feel trapped in his own body.

At some point during all the talk and story-sharing, Grillby felt himself slowly start to relax again. He spoke a little more, some of the nervous color faded from his flame just slightly. Grillby had no idea how much time had passed before the elementals were bidding him a good evening, and Grillby himself was stretching and sighing and turning to leave…

… only to realize that at some point Gaster had slipped away from the group, leaving Grillby standing there, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More news! I'm not sure how many of you guys that read this also write fanfictions, but please be on the lookout for a somewhat suspicious character going around Fanfiction.net, asking people about promotions and publishing their work. They haven't done anything 'bad' yet, that I know of, but I was talking with another Undertale writer on Tumblr and we figured out we got identical messages from them. It looks a lot like they're looking for an easy target for something, because as soon as you start asking questions they get dodgy and vague. Just politely remind them that Toby Fox doesn't allow mass-production and sale of Undertale items, stories included. Be safe out there guys!
> 
> Last news which has absolutely no relevence to the story: I am so sore and tired :'D I fell down some stairs last weekend and I still hurt owwieeee. I mean, I'm sure I'm just bruised (the bottom stair hit me in the middle of my back, and that's what's still sore) but hot damn if it isn't the most inconvinient thing! Especially sense I draw large-scale drawings for my art school, which involves a lot of reaching and bending and things. This week has been a pain.


	45. The Most I Can Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have a short argument  
> Followed by a lot of cheesiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aiy aiy we have a fanart feature for this week! :'D holy cheese you guys I literally die of happiness every time I see any of you are enough to draw a thing for this story. You have no idea how much it means to me.
> 
> First off we have [ a really awesome doodle of Grillby in some kickass armor](http://theblogofcastingrain.tumblr.com/post/151480578522/ursubs-i-really-heckin-love-silverskye13-s) by ursubs on Tumblr. Like holy cheese the clean lines still bolow me away, and I love the way they portrayed the fire? So much expression in such a simple drawing I can't even...??
> 
> Next we have a couple from Loumun-Versen on Deviantart (I swear someday I'll spell their username right on the first try X'D )  
> The first is [a really frickin awesome drawing of the bowing scene when Grillby meets Thistle.](http://loumun-versen.deviantart.com/art/UT-A-Bow-from-the-Mage-Slayer-638997891) I squealed when I saw it. Ho boy.
> 
> The second is an Inktober drawing! And it's [ actually a scene from last chapter!](http://loumun-versen.deviantart.com/art/Inktober-2016-Day-6-638617708) Reading the description of the deviation, I got a lot more excited than I probably should have ahaha XD I always get so excited whenever you guys put pieces of the story together, and hearing how they linked back different events that have happened previously in-story to what happened last chapter really made my hearts swell. I'm so glad they noticed!
> 
> And speaking of Inktober! Friendly reminder that on [that weird Tumblr thing I made for CR](http://theblogofcastingrain.tumblr.com/), I'm drawing a bunch of doodles of the characters for Inktober! If you're interested in seeing my personal designs for the crew!

Amathea and Gaster were… different. Amathea was terrifying when she needed to be - and perhaps that was why, when they had very first sparred, she had made it a point to sing to him. It had been there to remind Grillby that she was his escort for a reason. But never had she threatened him with it. When he told her he couldn’t fight a hundred horsemen, she’d told him why she thought he could. When he’d been panicking on the bridge, she’d calmed him and told him he could handle it. Never once did she remind him of what would happen if he didn’t do as he was told, if he chose between his own life and her orders. It was almost as if that option had left her mind completely. She had no intent to harm him, and at this point Grillby doubted she ever would.

And Grillby _knew_ Gaster couldn’t -

Well…Grillby supposed if Gaster could tear apart the soul of a human, he could _definitely_ tear apart the soul of a monster. But… why would he? Gaster didn’t have that kind of intent inside him. Between Gaster and Amathea… Grillby felt safe.

So now as he wandered his way through camp, dragging his feet as he neared the barracks, his dread felt sick and out of place. _This wasn’t right_. He shouldn’t be worried about going back to them. He didn’t even rightly know what he was worried about. It was frustrating! And it made him nauseous just feeling the way he did.

Grillby worried and pined and walked as slowly as he could without drawing attention to himself. He burned his flame low and dull to keep it from flickering through every anxious color he’d ever known. And he hesitated outside the wing of the barracks they stayed in, taking a few bracing breaths as if that could somehow ease all the useless worry he was feeling.

Then, when Grillby felt he couldn’t hesitate any longer, he walked inside.

The barracks were mostly empty, and in their emptiness they were almost haunting. Muted and distant conversation danced across the walls, scattered echoes calling back from further in the barracks where most of the monsters were eating and talking and sharing stories. It was a nervous half-noise, something that crawled against the relative quiet of the rest of the barracks. Most of the monsters here were asleep early, or just waking up to prepare for patrols in the night. But even with these scattered few, the majority of the hammocks and rooms Grillby passed were barren. Somehow this only worked to make Grillby feel claustrophobic.

The room Grillby and his friends were given was without a door, and deep enough inside the hill-cut fortress that it could have no windows, so Gaster’s pacing footsteps inside it jostled down towards Grillby long before the skeleton actually came into view. It was strange knowing the racket was Gaster, when normally the skeleton did so well at walking silently. But the steps were far too nervous and flighty to be Amathea’s - if she was even there and not still locked into one of the King’s meetings.

Grillby peered in the doorway hesitantly, flickering a frown at the skeleton as he turned away from one wall with a flurry of dark fabric to pace with long steps towards the opposite wall again. He signed with every step, long sweeping gestures that moved too fast and frenetic for Grillby to really grasp an understanding of. He’d never realized before how much Gaster had to slow down his signing when the two of them talked just for Grillby to read along.

Gaster was too engrossed in his own signs and steps to realize Grillby was there. After watching the skeleton walk from one side of the room to the other a few times, the elemental dared to knock on the stone doorway. The sound was silent and and weird against stone, but Gaster stopped his pacing with a startled jump anyway. Everything about the skeleton abruptly stilled when he saw Grillby leaning against the doorway. They blinked at each other in silence for a few tense seconds, and Grillby sighed out a breath of smoke.

“How long have you been gone?” Grillby flickered with a tentative spark.

“Not long.”

“Made you that angry, huh?”

Gaster coughed a tense laugh through his teeth in reply. He signed something Grillby couldn’t understand - his hands still moving too fast for the elemental to keep up with - but Grillby didn’t _need_ to read it. Whatever it was Gaster was saying, it meant _angry_ couldn’t even _begin_ to describe how he was feeling now.

Grillby crackled and sparked another sigh, “I _knew_ meeting them was probably a bad id-”

“No! No it’s _good_ we went out there,” Gaster interrupted abruptly, his every word clipped short, his voice some strange mix between an angry huff and an incredulous laugh, “And all of _that_ is _exactly_ why Ammy wanted me to come with you, I bet! What… what _was_ all that about… dispelling and being _unstable_ and distractions and all that… _nonsense?_ ”

“It’s not… _nonsense_ ,” Grillby muttered nervously, shifting on his feet uncomfortably, “It’s just how things work.”

“It’s insane!” Gaster shouted, the sudden burst of noise and his jerking, sweeping signs making Grillby jump, “And what’s worse is they talked about it like its all _normal!_ ”

“It… _is_ normal,” Grillby frowned, tensing his flame through bitter sparks of reds and purples as he spoke, “Every elemental ever summoned is trained like the King’s elementals were. _Including_ me.”

An angry sort of growl writhed its way past Gaster’s teeth and the skeleton turned to pacing again, “Why didn’t anyone tell me about this? Why didn’t _Ammy_ tell me about this?”

“You never asked?” Grillby said with an incredulous spark, “And besides its common knowledge. Every commander knows about this, _most_ of their soldiers know about it. And anyone else just figures elementals are too dangerous to be around.”

Gaster scowled, his teeth grinding together as he growled, “But you’re not _just_ an elemental, Grillby! You’re a monster! And - and you deserve to be treated like the rest of us for heaven’s sakes!”

“I’m an elemental _before_ I’m a monster.”

“What does that have to do with _anything?!_ ”

Grillby heaved out a smoking breath and sparked in exasperation, “We’re summoned into this world completely empty, Gaster! I didn’t have a name, or a family. I didn’t even know right from wrong!”

The elemental splayed his arms out dismayingly, “What were they _supposed_ to do with me? Hope and pray I didn’t decide their side was bad and burn everything to the ground? And how in heaven’s name would they stop me if I decided to? So they give us a purpose and tell us to do it or die and that’s the end of it! They can’t treat me like a normal monster. They can’t treat any of us like that because we’re not! It’s not pretty, but it works.”

Gaster glowered down at Grillby, eyes flashing with angry magic, “So _what_ , you’re just okay with this? With being treated like you're all a bunch of… I don’t -- like a bunch of animals?!”

“Of course I’m not!” Grillby sparked back. He was shaking with emotion now, and he couldn’t tell in his tangled up soul if it was anger or dismay or something else entirely. Sparks jittered off of him in every frantic direction, and he crossed his arms as if that could still it, “It’s terrifying! And… and _nerve wracking!_ I’m paranoid about what will happen if I burn someone or… if I freeze up on the battlefield someday and can’t do what I’m supposed to do! Will someone just label me unstable and have me dispelled?”

Another soul-stopping thought ripped through Grillby and he flickered desperately, “What if you and Ammy get killed out there?! They might reassign me with someone like my first escort - or just dispel me for all I know!”

“So what, is that why whenever we’re about to fight you make such a fuss about me and Ammy being out there?” Gaster laughed angrily.

“No! That’s not-?” Grillby stomped a foot on the ground, “Damnit Gaster, you don’t understand-!”

“Then _make me_ understand!” Gaster snapped back, “Because right now _none of this_ makes sense!”

Grillby clasped his hands against his head, as if he could pull out hair that wasn’t there. How? _How_ was he supposed to explain something to Gaster he hardly understood himself? He didn’t ask questions! He wasn’t _supposed_ to ask questions! He was summoned for _one purpose_ and…! And…?

And Gaster was still talking, his hands signing so close by that Grillby thought they might reach out and hit him if the skeleton got angry enough.

“And what about _us_?” Gaster continued, his tone lilting slowly out of angry and closer to frantic, “What about everything that’s happened to us! Why did you do _any_ of that? Like saving me from those morons from knucklebones, or - or carrying me off that stupid cliff or going back for Brigg when he was drowning or saving those kids! Was that _you?_ Was that all _really you?_ Or was that just your stupid purpose talking -”

Grillby suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe, and his mind was reeling. No, this was going _all wrong_. He felt _trapped_ and _claustrophobic_ and he _couldn’t_ _stop shaking_ and it was getting _hard to breathe_ and he _didn’t want to deal with this anymore and -_

Before Grillby even realized what he was doing, he was spinning on his heel and walking away. No, he was _storming away_ , as fast as his legs could carry him without running outright.

“Wh-?! Grillby! Where are you going?”

Grillby replied with a simple flair of his arms, as if that could explain away _anything_ that had just happened, or what he was doing now. Inside he felt strangely blank against the bitter emotions crawling at the inside of his chest. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t even know what to _think_ , he just needed to _get away_. It took a second for Gaster to recover, to blink and realize Grillby was actually _walking away from him._ And then the skeleton was bounding after him.

“Grillby! Get back here!”

If it were possible, Grillby walked _faster_. He dodged past a few monsters walking his direction, ignoring their confused stares after him. He slipped around a turn in the hall - where was he even going? Was he even _leaving_ the fortress or - ? Wait! No there was the exit right there! And walking towards him from it was Amathea, the commander flashing him a tired smile when she noticed him. The smile quickly turned into a frown when he brushed past her, muttering a half-hearted apology as he went. And then Gaster was running into her, and Grillby heaved a sigh of relief when she forced Gaster to stop and talk to her, and to _please explain_ what in the world was going on. And no he wasn’t leaving _right now_. And if it was oh so important he better start explaining _quickly_ then! Grillby could hear the exasperation in Gaster’s voice even when he was too far away to make out the words.

Grillby kept walking, trying his hardest to make it look like he was heading somewhere important so no one would question him. His mind wasn’t directing his feet anymore; it was far too busy buzzing with nonsensical, miserable feelings. Feelings that ate at the inside of his chest like spines of ice against his soul. He needed to _think_ , to figure out what he was going to say when Gaster inevitably caught up to him but… Grillby was at a loss. What could he even say in the face of all that? And now that Gaster had brought Grillby’s purpose...

Why did Grillby do anything that he did? He’d saved Gaster again and again - he’d intercepted arrows, he’d torn apart wards, he’d jumped off cliffs. Because he wanted _desperately_ to keep Gaster safe, to keep the skeleton from being reduced to nothing but dust. For Amathea he’d faced horsemen, mages, he’d defied his own fears by fighting on a bridge. He’d insisted the both she and Gaster of them take a step back while he was fighting a mage he _clearly_ couldn’t handle on his own. They’d ignored him then of course, because they _cared_ about him. Gaster had fought to save Grillby while the elemental had been gravely wounded, had spent hours of his time making sure Grillby’s soul was safe and his ills healed. Amathea soothed his panic, taught him strategy no one else had bothered to teach him, gave him a promise of a future that beforehand he wouldn’t have allowed himself to dream about. They _cared_. So, _so much_.

Did Grillby _care?_ Did he protect them because he _cared?_ Did he dare to do things for them because he actually wanted to see them happy, to see them safe? Or was that because it had been drilled into him that he _had_ to. That their safety and happiness meant more than his? It was his purpose. _And he had to live for his purpose._

It was getting hard to breathe again and Grillby was panicking. That sense of _unreal_ , of being _less_ than everyone else, tightened a fist around his soul and threatened to break it. What if Grillby had been deluding himself this whole time? What if the happiness he felt - the feelings he had for Amathea and Gaster - what if those were just some strange, reaching extension of his purpose? What if he didn’t actually care because he _wanted_ to, because he was friends with them? What if… it was just something he _had_ to do?

A stinging, crawling feeling surged across his core and for a moment Grillby wondered if it was his panic that was really consuming him _that much_. It took longer than it should have for Grillby to realize that, at some point, it had started sprinkling.

Then Grillby was reacting in a second, dashing for the nearest shelter he could find - _when had he walked out of camp? Had he really been that lost - ?_ \- and slid to a halt underneath a tree nearby. He sunk to the ground there, wincing against the dampness in the air and the shuddering of his core as the stinging from the rain died away. He curled his knees close to his chest and stared, watching the ground grow increasingly spattered with bits of rain. It was just a light sprinkle, and Grillby kicked himself internally for not having the courage to walk back through it to camp, to the barracks, to confront Gaster and all these terrible mixed-up feelings. Instead he sat, and he watched the rain hit the ground inches away from his boots, and he swallowed back the conflicting feelings of dismay and panic that writhed in his chest. For a few minutes he stared and refused to think, waiting for the intense feelings to just die out. Waiting for a moment of clarity. Eventually the elemental just clasped his head in his hands; his fingers gripping at his core as if that alone could stop him from feeling so emotionally queasy.

Gaster found him like that a not long after, hiding like a child beneath the shadow of a tree, watching the rain. The elemental blinked up at him, fire churning in awful, nervous and miserable colors, what little grip he’d managed to gather on himself slipping away in the face of his friend. But he had nowhere to run now; Grillby was more afraid of the rain than he ever could be of Gaster - angry or not. The skeleton sat beside him, taking care not to let his now dampened clothes brush against Grillby’s.

“Can we _not_ do that again please?” Gaster asked, flashing Grillby a sideways glance, “Chasing after you is exhausting.”

Grillby didn’t answer him. He just blinked at Gaster for a few moments, not sure what to say or do. Gaster rolled his head back to rest against the tree behind him, frowning, his hands reaching up to sign a familiar motion - _sorry_. Then he sighed, letting his hands rest in his lap for a moment before raising them and signing again, slowly and carefully so Grillby could read if he wanted to.

“Look, I’m not mad at you. And I’m sorry for yelling at you. I just… I care a lot about you. It makes me _so angry_ thinking _anyone_ could treat you so…” Gaster huffed out a tense sigh, signed a few nonsense motions, and then continued, “And… it’s also really scary… hearing you and the elementals talk like you’re worthless. It’s beyond scary - it’s _terrifying_.”

Gaster signed a little quicker now, catching Grillby in a worried glance, “And… I feel so confused. Because I _do_ care about you. I’d… if I thought it was necessary I’d risk my life for you - and I have! And I know you have for me before too but… it was because someone said you had to and… I... don’t know how to feel about that.”

Gaster’s signing grew still again and he crossed his arms around his chest, hugging himself insecurely, “I… don’t know how to feel about Ammy either. And why she didn’t tell me this herself... and… why she’s your escort… and what would happen if… for some reason she would have to...”

An uncomfortable silence passed between them and Gaster stammered worriedly, “Do you… do you understand why I’m upset at least?”

Grillby flickered a nod, and Gaster coughed out a nervous laugh, “Talk to me Grillby, I’m lost. Help me understand _something_.”

“I… don’t know what to say,” Grillby crackled a frown, his gaze dropping to the rain at his feet, “I’ve never dealt with this before. The only other monster I’ve ever been close to was Gerson, and he _definitely_ knew all of this.”

“Was he mean to you?”

“Ha! No,” Grillby flickered a small smile, “I mean… at first he was a bit… cold. They made him my escort because he wanted to be a commander, and they wanted him to prove he could command a force of some sort, show strategy, that sort of thing. So when he first began escorting me he was trying _so hard_ to make sure he was doing it right but in the end he was too soft hearted.”

Grillby chuckled a small laugh, “He was the monster that decided I should have a name.”

“Seriously?” The tone in Gaster’s voice was hard to read, so for now, Grillby chose to ignore it.

“Yeah,” Grillby hummed, orange color wrapping its way pleasantly through his flame, “He used to list names off to me every night. _Grillby_ was my favorite, obviously. But uhm… I think _Ashbel_ was the one Gerson had his heart set on. He brought it up a lot anyway.”

“What did they call you before that?”

Grillby shrugged, “Just… elemental? I mean, it’s not like they had to worry about confusing me for someone else. At the time I didn’t care, I didn’t know any differently. Looking back on it now though…”

Grillby flickered a small frown, “I don’t want it to happen again.”

“Is that why you got so upset when Gravin asked you about your summoning?”

“Uh… sort of,” Grillby sighed out a breath of smoke, “I mean, it was just a scary thing to go through, as weird as that sounds. I remember I couldn’t move. Which I think is why it makes me so nervous to think about. I just woke up some place, surrounded by monsters and no matter what I did I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe. My soul was so completely bound it couldn’t even form magic. And I remember staring at the summoning circle for what felt like ages, trying to figure out what was going on.”

Grillby blinked off somewhere in the distance, not really seeing the world in front of him for a few minutes. Beside him, Gaster shifted uncomfortably, “You don’t… _have_ to tell me about it. If you don’t like it.”

“No it’s… not a big deal,” Grillby frowned, “There’s not much to it past that. The monster who summoned me just talked me through what was going on, told me about the war and why they wanted me to help them and I agreed. It’s just - waking up for the first time and not knowing anything, that’s what I don’t like. I’m sure Gravin and the others were the same way. It wasn’t worth talking about when they asked.”

Grillby paused thoughtfully before saying, “After that my every waking moment was about my...”

 _His purpose_. That one silly thing that had somehow made the day so complicated. Funny, wasn’t it given to him to make sure his life stayed _simple?_

“So… my purpose,” Grillby started falteringly, fidgeting his hands nervously as he spoke, “I’d like to try and explain…” Grillby flickered a troubled frown, not really sure how to put into words what he was trying to, “I was summoned _just_ for this war, and for making sure as few monsters around me as possible would be killed.”

Gaster nodded, watching Grillby attentively, worriedly. Grillby hissed out a tense sigh of smoke.

“It’s something I don’t even think about. It’s like a reflex - I _need_ to help,” Grillby continued, “Like when Brigg fell in the river. I _had_ to try and save him. I was running out to him before I even worried about falling in myself. I just… reacted. And everything is like that - anything that happens on the battlefield, saving you or Ammy, doing what I’m told no matter how crazy it sounds… they’re reactions I _have_ to have. Doing anything differently goes against what I am.”

Grillby frowned down at his hands, “And… I’m sorry if that hurts you in any way. I can’t help it.”

Grillby sighed out another breath before finally looking up at Gaster. The skeleton’s face was a mask of tense emotions that Grillby couldn’t really discern. But he was definitely frowning; his whole body still with worry and nervousness down to his very breathing, the lights of his eyes were nearly gone out.

“But you need to know,” Grillby added quietly, “That you and Ammy are the best things that have happened to me. I want to see you happy. I know I’m just an elemental and because of that… I can’t really have… family. And it’s hard for me to understand living a life without a purpose or… without another monster telling me who I am or what I’m supposed to be doing. But you two make me want to be something past my purpose, past this war even! It might not be my choice whether or not I’d die for you. But if you asked me to, I’d live forever, and that’s the most I can ever give you.”

Gaster coughed a laugh, hiding a grin behind one of his hands, “That was sappy.”

Grillby smiled and crackled a chuckle, feeling some of his nervousness finally start to ease, “It’s also true, for what it’s worth.”

“It’s worth a lot,” Gaster sighed, though his smile remained. He slowly got to his feet, and Grillby was glad to see the skeleton looked a lot less troubled than he did before “Thank you for that.”

The skeleton offered Grillby a hand, and the elemental allowed himself to be helped to his feet. The two stood there for a few minutes before Gaster signed quietly, “We need to get back… and I need to talk to Ammy before she goes to sleep.”

Grillby nodded and slowly pulled his hood over the top of his head. The sprinkling of rain had pattered off just a bit, but a light drizzle still remained. Grillby knew it was harmless but--

“You okay to walk back?” Gaster asked, raising the ridge above his unbroken eye just slightly in question, “I can get some canvas or something - or we could wait a few more minutes?”

“I’ll be fine,” Grillby flickered a wan smile, “Let’s just… walk fast.”

Gaster smirked and nodded, and with a comforting hand resting against Grillby’s back lead the way back into camp. Back inside the wall, fires were being started. Evening was quickly darkening into night. This time the walk through the barracks was crowded and filled with the mutterings of sleepy monsters settling in for the night. Some were already packing, scattered belongings being tied together to be ready for departure in the morning.

Amathea was in the room when they arrived. For a moment Grillby thought she was already asleep - she was lying in her hammock, eyes shut. But when she heard them enter she yawned and stretched, and welcomed them back, and asked them would someone _please_ explain what in the world all the yelling was about earlier? Gaster promised to explain - and also asked if he could talk to her for a few minutes about… _everything_. The two left, and Grillby spent some time gathering up their few belongings before collapsing into a hammock himself. It was… different… sleeping someplace other than the floor for once. He cautiously hoped he didn’t have a nightmare and accidentally set everything on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Aaaand quick forewarning that next week's chapter might be late. Have a bunch of problems coelescing, mostly to do with school and company coming in and an overall lacking of sleep in my life. Also there is this: I'm not actually sure I want to keep the next chapter in the story. A friend gave me the advice of going ahead and writing everything out, and then seeing if it's necessary afterwards before cutting it, and I think that's what I'll do. The only problem with this plan is, if I spend all week writing this and decide I don't like it, I won't have a chapter ready for Thursday. So... forewarning!_
> 
>  
> 
> Also, assuming you guys read this far and/or have an account on Fanfiction.net: there is a certain person on FF who has been leaving incredibly nasty reviews on peoples' works for literally no reason. They're copy-pasting the same heinously nasty message onto several peoples' works from several different fandoms (mine included). I've reported them six ways to Sunday, but I have no idea how proactive the FF staff are about dealing with these things? So just a friendly reminder that you are loved, you are generous and wonderful human beings, and nothing anyone could possibly tell you one some internet site can be true. They don't know you or anything you go through. It doesn't matter how dark your mind gets, or how any mental illness can affect you. Don't let some troll validate any nasty feelings you hold for yourself. You are appreciated and loved.


	46. A Building Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we move toward the battle the King is sending us to  
> And some of us worry about mages

As much as Grillby had enjoyed being in camp, it was good to be walking again. To know he was going somewhere that he could be useful. _But that was probably his purpose talking_. Still, the cool air was nice. It put a brittle sting in Grillby’s core, gave him the excuse to burn a little hotter and brighter than he normally would. It was invigorating in a way, and any monsters that walked nearby him hardly complained about the extra heat. In fact, it just seemed to make Amathea huddle a step or two closer to him - apparently she wasn’t too fond of the chill that came from the deepening autumn. Gaster could hardly care. He only felt the chill on the coldest mornings.

It had taken them hours to get ready to move out - getting so many troops mobile was always a hassle, and this army was no exception. It was the largest by far than any Grillby had ever worked with, and Amathea was already telling them they would be meeting more units along the way. Whatever battle the King was leading them off to, he was taking it seriously. There would be no repeating of whatever disaster happened to the western front. The air was heavy with the King’s intent as he and his son had mounted their horses and lead the armies off.

The departure was made all the more bitter when Amathea said goodbye to Thetis on the morning they left. The two sisters had hugged, holding each other fervently and hopefully. Grillby noticed they whispered to each other in another language - parting prayers breathed together in the language they spoke in back home. The sound of the words were familiar to Grillby by now. He’d heard them sung, he’d heard them cursed and laughed between the two sisters before, but their meaning was lost on him. His curiosity to know what they said was easily stifled though. They deserved to have a moment together, to take note of each other’s faces and remember them if they didn’t meet again.

Thetis also took a moment to whisk up both Grillby and Gaster in an embrace, chiding with them playfully and brash that they better not get themselves dusted while she was gone. To Grillby she added a bit more seriously, and quietly, so the others wouldn’t hear.

_“Keep them safe.”_

Grillby had flickered back at her, all awash in startled and nervous colors, “I will.”

Thetis had nodded to him, reassured. She’d hissed in a bracing breath and bid them all farewell - her and Amathea shouting some final good-natured insults between each other as a final goodbye. Amathea had made a brave face while her sister was still in sight, but as soon as they were outside the gates, Grillby caught her swiping her hand across her eyes. Grillby flickered at her with concern, and when she noticed it she’d laughed him off.

“All those goodbyes just get a bit harder as you get older,” she’d chuckled sadly, her smile not quite making it to her dampened eyes, “She’ll be fine I’m sure. Besides, if anything happens we’ve still got our letters. That’s more than a lot of monsters can say.”

Amathea had refused to talk about it since then, but Grillby noticed a melancholy had swept over the commander that even the warmest campfire talk from he and Gaster couldn't completely shake. She was going to miss her sister, and there was nothing they could do to ease that. It made Grillby’s soul ache, but he knew better than to press the matter. Amathea was a strong monster. She had coped with it before Grillby had walked into her life, she would cope with it now. But he made sure to stick closer beside her, just in case she ever got lonely.

During the day while they marched the three of them - or just Grillby and Gaster if Amathea was preoccupied - worked in short scouting and hunting parties. And when they weren’t working, Grillby was burning. He stole campfires set in the morning before monsters could put them out with water. He would set fires just to let them burn so he could devour them again. He forced more magic into his soul and more heat into his flame. He had no idea how much he’d need it, but it would never hurt to be prepared he guessed. Gaster helped where he could, pointing out good spots to burn while they were hunting that wouldn’t scare off anything in the area.

Now that the subject of Grillby’s summoning had been breached - along with his life afterwards - Gaster started asking questions. Sometimes the answers made him angry again, to which Grillby would try and change the topic. They talked about Grillby’s training sometimes, or field missions he’d run with Gerson. Gaster had been both amazed and confused to hear that nobody had taught Grillby monster language - the elemental had just woken up able to speak it. Grillby just shrugged it off. He’d woken up knowing how to use a sword and how to walk and direct magic and a number of other things he _shouldn’t_ have known. Being able to speak was just another curiosity to figure out someday.

The progress the monsters made was phenomenal. Grillby had expected a walk like this to take weeks, maybe even a month given the size of the army and the carts and wagons that had to follow it. But by some miracle there was always a road for them to follow, something that led them in the direction they needed to go. It wasn’t until several days into their walking that Grillby realized the road was being made _as they walked it_.

He and Gaster had been scouting a ways ahead, and were finally backtracking to switch shifts with another waiting scout party. On the way back there had been a cacophony of noise - the cracking to wood, the rumble of earth. When the two had rushed to see, Grillby had almost been blown off his feet in amazement. The earth elementals walked ahead of the army, their magic writhing through the air and heavy with intent as they _bent the_ _earth itself_ to their will. Grillby and Gaster had watched as Umber and Terros moved, their magic parting trees and rocks out of their way as if swept away by a giant’s hand. And behind them came Gravin and Ora, laying the earth flat behind the first two, creating a wide path that horses could tread and wagons could ride.

Gaster had laughed and signed excitedly, “No wonder the King wanted stone elementals following him around! Can you _imagine_ what those guys can do fighting?”

Grillby could only shake his head in amazement. They were _surrounded_ by their element, after all. They could reach out and touch anything that they could use. Of _course_ they would be powerful! Grillby had to wonder what would happen if someday he could -? The flame elemental had shaken the idea away not a moment later. For Grillby to be surrounded by his element like this, the whole world would be on fire! Or at least a good portion of the area around him. Something like that wouldn’t be good for anyone. Oh but how amazing it must feel to be _that_ invincible.

Perhaps that’s what Terros had meant when he said only the strongest elementals could protect the King.

They had been marching for nearly a week when the first signs of humans started appearing. It was subtle at first - haze on the horizon that could be wood smoke if you squinted at it right Scouts running into tracks they didn’t remember making. Just a slightly heavier weight to the intent in the air. Grillby noticed it as a barely perceptible darkening of the world around him, like the gathering darkness before a storm. A drop in pressure. A nervousness that prickled against his core like a cold drizzle. There was a dread in his soul he couldn’t reason away, something that made him look twice over his shoulder where normally he’d look once, or perhaps not at all.

Amathea swore the air tasted like magic.

* * *

It was a sunny afternoon when the army emerged onto what was going to be their battleground, and Grillby’s soul shuddered with anticipation when he saw it. It was less a _field_ rightly and more a valley, a large pass between two of the larger hills that was mostly clear of trees. There was an army waiting for them just as Amathea had said - less than a third the size of the soldiers already amassed, but armed to the teeth and ready for a fight.

That night, the valley was filled with campfires and tents, sprawled out wide across the grass. Horses were tended, armor was polished, weapons were cared for. For Grillby’s part, he mostly meandered around camp snapping up fires before they were put out. Not that he really needed them. All the gathering he’d done over the past few days had his soul tight and his flame pitching in whites and yellows - even in spite of the magic he’d used in the forest. He’d done this so often now… slowly he was starting to tell when he was _actually_ nervous and when he was just jittery from magic. Grillby wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

He was a bit surprised when, on his way back to Amathea and Gaster he was stopped by Umber. The stone elemental was… scared. Grillby could tell just from the feel in their magic when they approached him.

“Good evening little brother,” the stone elemental had hummed, the low rumble at the edge of their voice sending a shudder through Grillby’s core, “Do you mind if I join you?”

Grillby flickered an uncomfortable smile, but nodded and continued on his way, Umber lumbering in step beside him.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” Umber sighed, a sound a bit like tumbling sand, “Well… not _wrong_ really. I was just… a bit nervous about tomorrow. I was wondering if perhaps you could offer some advice?”

Grillby sparked in surprise. _What?_

“No offense Umber,” Grillby answered, frowning, “I’d love to help but… wouldn’t it be better if you asked Gravin? I mean… they’re your same element. They could help you better than I could… right?”

Umber rubbed the back of their head nervously, a troubled scowl wrinkling their rough features. They stopped walking, and Grillby stopped with them. They paused a moment, thinking heavily on what they were going to say next.

“I… _did_ ask,” Umber admitted finally, “And I asked Terros as well. They tried to be reassuring, honestly they did. But… they had a lot to say about protecting the King, and very little to say about… anything else.”

The stone elemental gave a start and amended quickly, “Not that I wouldn’t protect his Highness! If I had to I’d give my life for him, you know! I just -”

Umber heaved another heavy sigh, their whole body slumping into a look of pensive exhaustion, “I want to survive this. I don’t want to… I… I’m sorry. I just thought, since you’ve been through so much, you might be able to tell me how to get through this as well.”

Grilly blinked up at Umber with bewildered surprise. Well… of all the things he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this. He didn’t know what to say. _Could_ he say anything? Grillby didn’t really trust himself to give advice on something like this. He didn’t want Umber getting hurt because they were listening to some fool thing Grillby said!

Umber shook their head, scowling, “Ah, this is ridiculous! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

Grillby reached out a hand and laid it on Umber’s arm, cutting the elemental off mid-sentence. He hoped the comforting warmth he was trying to exude was making it’s way through their stone skin. It seemed to be at least, because Umber’s expression softened at Grillby’s touch, and the nervous feel in their magic calmed just a bit.

“It’s okay,” Grillby said gently, “I understand, really. No one’s really asked for my advice before, is all. Uhm… I don’t know how much _decent_ help I can give you but… I can tell you what I do at least.”

Umber’s eyes flashed with relief, and the stone elemental offered Grillby a tired smile, “ _Thank you_.”

The two of them started walking again, and after a short pause where Grillby tried to put his thoughts in order - _where did he even begin? -_ he started talking. He listed off everything he knew, everything he’d seen. Everything he could think of, really, and prayed it wasn’t too confusing or scattered. He talked about intent, and how some mages you could just _tell_ how powerful they were because you could feel it in the air when they walked. He talked about how they shouted their spells, how their magic came from their staffs and that they could be avoided - or even broken. He talked about why he wore armor, and carried a shield. How mages could use wards to throw his magic back at him - and how this could hurt any monsters nearby. How sometimes, it was better to use a sword than his magic.

Grillby could’ve talked for hours, honestly. And… he was amazing himself in little ways. Some of these things, he was surprised he had the kind of thoughtfulness it took to notice them. For a few seconds it almost sounded like he knew what he was talking about. Umber didn’t ask many questions. For the most part the elemental just listened and nodded, only once or twice ever asking Grillby to elaborate on something. They talked until Grillby was back at his campfire with Amathea and Gaster - his friends blinking at him in confusion when they saw who he was with.

It was there that they parted ways, but only after Grillby said quietly, “And Umber, _please_ remember, a lot of monsters expect you to lay your life down before theirs… but… you can’t help anyone if you’re dust.”

Umber had frowned at him in surprise, but nodded anyway, the magic around them somehow conflicted and relieved all at once.

He offered Grillby a small sort of bow, “Thank you little brother. You have no idea how much I needed this. I’ll be sure to relay it to Ora as well.”

Grillby flickered a weary smile, “I can only hope it helps. Stay safe, Umber.”

“I will certainly try.”

With that, the stone elemental turned and left, vanishing into the crowd of preparing monsters. Grillby watched them go, feeling a small swell of fondness and worry in his chest. _Heavens above_ , he hoped the other elementals would be okay.

“What was that all about?” Amathea asked, and then bristled protectively, “They’re not bothering you are they?”

“No,” Grillby chuckled, “They uh… asked me for some advice about tomorrow.”

The elemental frowned, “I hope I actually did them some good.”

Gaster grinned, “I’m sure you did great. I mean, you haven’t lost a fight with a mage yet have you?”

Grillby smirked, “It helps if you have someone calling out their spells every time they shout them. The other elementals don’t have that.”

“Aye well, they’ve got the King with them,” Amathea offered reassuringly, “And while I’ve never seen him in action myself, I’ve heard he’s quite a level-headed commander. You bet he won’t be letting his personal guard get lost doing anything stupid. And even besides all that, I doubt there’s many human mages that know a spell that can shatter stone.”

“About as likely as a mage knowing how to summon a storm, I’m sure,” Grillby said more to himself than anyone else.

The three of them stayed close for the rest of the night, enjoying each other’s company as the rest of the army slowly quieted. There was anticipation in the air, dread and excitement and a thousand other feelings burning the air like the sting of magic. But with so many hearts and minds joined together, determined to win, to survive, surely they couldn’t lose?

Grillby hardly slept that night, and the morning dawned too early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //nervous coughing noises//
> 
> I cut a lot out of this chapter ahaha. I might have to invest in submitting some 'deleted scenes' for this story because I was really proud of the two or three scenes I cut XD But at the end of the day they were also pretty useless for the plot! Like... completely useless actually. Kind of just drawing out the inevitable. 
> 
> Speaking of which! Coming up in the next chapter are two(?) more scenes that I have been planning for months now! Ahhh I'm quite excited. And also a bit nervous because I want them to turn out perfect. Hnnngh. Which miiiiiiiiiiight also mean the next chapter will be late. Normally I wouldn't take the extra time, really. I just. This needs to be done well. I don't wanna rush it.  
> It's also going to be a long chapter I think. I'm budgeting 4000 words, but it'll probably be longer. So. Yeah.
> 
> I'm excited :'D I hope you guys are too


	47. A Shining Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the battle begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a fanart feature this week :D A couple of them actually!
> 
> The first is [a couple of really adorable sketches by b0yb0t on Tumblr!](http://b0yb0t.tumblr.com/post/152319922583/theblogofcastingrain-silverskye13-s-fic) Ahhh I love them they're so expressive! :D
> 
> And the next is [a really heckin' cool drawing of one of the battle scenes by Kakurosu on DA!](http://kakurosu.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-641154074) Seriously I give them some mad props for tackling not only so many people in a single drawing, but also drawing Grillby's different fire colors with colored pencil? Mad skills :D

The air tasted like worry, mingled with the scent of cool earth and the decay of autumn. It was an aching smell, one that set a shiver of worry through Grillby’s core with every twist of the breeze. He wished he’d gotten more sleep last night. He wished the sunrise was spread out before him, instead of echoing back at him broken against the glint of armor. He wished the building feeling of nervous tension stopped pooling in his stomach like nausea and ice water.

But Grillby supposed it couldn’t be helped.

Looking out across the valley that morning felt a lot like watching that first storm rise from the mage that had summoned it months ago. Grillby could feel the intent in the air, casting a haze across the distance like the warping of light as heat rose from a fire. And it had only gotten stronger when the army they were facing emerged from the forest at the far end of the valley. There were _so many_ of them. Their ranks and files nearly stretched from one end of the valley to the other, broken every so often where one unit of warriors began and another ended. A steady breeze teased the air around them, sending plumes on helmets and flags rippling. Looking to either side of him, Grillby realized the monster army didn’t look much different, though the uniformity of their ranks varied with the different forms the monsters took.

Brigg’s unit stood to the left of one of the King’s, the group of now familiar monsters shifting and shuffling in quiet apprehension of what was to come. Ahead of them and to the right, at the forefront and center of the army, was the King’s son. He stood forward of the rest of the monsters, surrounded by his horsemen, and two of the stone elementals. Across the distance, Grillby couldn’t really tell which ones they were. In the main bulk of the army, standing with his warriors, was the King himself. He towered over most of the monsters around him, those long ivory horns catching in the sunlight, the gold circlets on them reflecting burning light like fire.

It was strange to see the other monsters there, standing ahead of the unit Grillby was in. The elemental had long ago grown used to standing on the front lines, leading the way where his fire could do the most damage to his enemies and the least to the monsters that stood behind him. But he didn’t have a horse to ride - and didn’t know how to ride one if he _did_ \- so for once there was no use in him standing at the front. There was strategy involved here that he didn’t know much about, and that Amathea hadn’t really had the time to explain.

Now the commander stood beside Grillby, one of her deadly spears crackling in her white-knuckled grip. She was scowling at the armies ahead of her, ear frills giving periodic, thoughtful twitches as she scanned the ranks across the valley. She had been pensive all morning, strangely quiet and lacking in her normal rousing enthusiasm, and Grillby would be lying if he said it didn’t have him worried. It took a lot to break through the commander’s rowdy optimism.

“You alright Ammy?” Grillby asked with a concerned flicker, “You seem tense.”

There was a pause where the commander said nothing for a moment, her jagged yellow fangs digging into her lip nervously. When she finally spoke her voice was distant, thoughtful.

“Last battle this size I was in didn’t end so well for me,” she admitted with a shrug, “I’ll admit I’m a bit nervous.”

Grillby sparked a frown. Movement out of the corner of his eye grabbed his attention, and he just caught the end of Gaster’s sign.

_Her arm._

Grillby blinked, _Oh._ Before he could think of some comfort to say though, Amathea was speaking again, her voice breaking the silence with a tense and magic-infused hum.

“There’s a foul wind blowing.”

Gaster frowned and asked slowly, signing fretfully, “Is… something wrong?”

Amathea pointed, her spear directing both their gazes towards the army before them, “They’ve got horsemen there. You see them?”

It took Grillby a moment to find them - not because they were few but because of the distance. The elemental flickered a frown. They were just barely visible behind the humans’ front lines.

“Okay… why is that bad?” Gaster said after a pause.

“You’ve only got two good uses for horses, boy,” Amathea jerked her head in Asgore’s direction, and Gaster followed her gaze, “They either lead a charge and stomp everything down…”

There was a pause, and Grillby murmured with a frown, “Or you use them for a route.”

 _A route_. Last time they’d run into one of those, both Gaster and Grillby had almost wound up dust. It was a route that mercilessly tracked down and killed fleeing armies - cut them off before they could reform and fight again. On foot the human soldiers had caused enough damage last time. Grillby didn’t want to see the kind of dust they could cause if they were mounted.

Amathea nodded, “And those horses there aren’t leading any charges if they’re standing behind the front lines, are they?”

“They already think they’re going to win,” Grillby said gravely, and Amathea nodded.

“Aye, they do,” Amathea scowled, “Which means they’re either incredibly _stupid_ , or they know something _we don’t_.”

“Just being optimistic here, but my votes on stupid,” Gaster shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting nervously.

“Hope all you want,” Amathea offered him a bitter smirk, “But assume you’re missing something. You’ll be better prepared if you are.”

Gaster nodded, a worried frown writhing across his teeth.

“You know,” Grillby said with a sigh of smoke, “You don’t _have_ to be up here Gaster. You’re a doctor. No one will judge you if you cycle back to the carts and wait to heal people.”

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” Gaster said with a smirk, “And I feel like I said no that time too.”

The elemental crackled a laugh and shrugged, “It was worth a shot.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid, Gaster,” Amathea chided, “And stay close to us.”

Gaster nodded, frowning nervously, “Right.”

A horn blast resounded across the valley - not from the monsters but from the humans on the far side - followed by the thundering roar of a legion of voices, war cries that reverberated across the distance. Grillby’s soul gave a nervous flutter in his chest as the first lines of humans began marching forward. He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword where it sat in it’s sheath, shifting restlessly on his feet as he watched the armies approach. His flame flickered white, his every breath a tense plume of smoke.

Asgore sent a shout down across the line of horsemen, and after a pause spurred his beast forward. The rest of the creatures leaped to follow, the war horses covering the distance across the valley faster than any monster could. It was just before the line of charging horses met the advancing humans that the monster horns sounded, calling for the standing soldiers to move. Brigg shouted an order, and their unit started walking.

This is where things got dizzying.

Grillby had never fought a large-scale battle like this before. The extent of his maneuvering and strategy had always involved simple orders and a single charge. This was different. This was _planned_. Amathea had attempted to give Grillby the basic gist of what was going to happen, and Gaster had seemed to understand it all, but Grillby was still a bit lost. He couldn’t imagine what she was saying or how it was supposed to be executed. Really the only information he’d managed to hang onto was that they were making room for the horses to retreat back again. For as impressive as the beasts were, they were only really _useful_ when they were running at full speed and crashing through a crowd of people. The minute they lost their momentum they could be picked apart with ease.

So Brigg and Amathea moved their unit off to the side, making a break in the line for the horses to run back through. And then they were ordering the monsters forward, there to catch any humans that tried to chase the fleeing horsemen back across the valley again. If everything went according to plan, there would be another unit of monsters doing this too, mirroring the movement Grillby’s unit was making.

The elemental just did as he was told and prayed everyone else was doing the same.

As he walked, he drew his sword and braced up his shield. The humans were getting _closer_ , and so was the rolling thunder of hooves. Grillby was already sinking into the feeling of a fight, his angry nerves cooling into something more controlled and resolved, his magic hissing with intent. He felt it crackle and pool in the air around him, just out of reach, ready to spring forth in a burst of flame as soon as his enemies were close enough. Beside him, Amathea was fading in the same way, all her previous misgivings wiped away in the wake of her exhilarated grin. Gaster was a step behind Grillby, out of sight and jittery with fear.

A shout was called and they moved faster. First a measuredly paced march. Then a lilting jog. Then a run. A flicker of movement caught the elemental’s eye, and he glanced the last of the horsemen retreating back just as planned - and further past them, the run of more monsters matching the pace of Brigg’s unit. At their front strode the King, large hands curling around a weapon that sprung to life with his awesome magic. Grillby swore he could feel the shift in intent across the distance between them.

The two units converged on what was left of the humans the horsemen had engaged, as well as the humans running up to reinforce them. Grillby’s blade bit into the armor of some knight that wasn’t ready for him. The elemental winced as blood spatter sprayed it’s way across his exposed hand, hissing and spitting and stinging his senses with the sharp smell of metal. With an explosion of magic everything around him spun into a very familiar chaos, and his soul sang in tandem with the movement of every sword thrust and parry.

Grillby felt a damning sense of relief when he let go his first flood of magic, sweeping up the humans before him in a wave of fire that burned white and hot and molten. It felt like releasing a breath he’d been holding for too long. The fire he made was zealous and consuming. It melted metal and bone, it silenced noise. It thinned the writhing wall of bodies he was forced to fight through. The ease in it was almost unfair. But it was worth it. He could feel Gaster close beside him, throwing up occasional attacks but staying mostly safe. Amathea’s voice shattered the air to his left, warping the air like shuddering glass, alight with magic and persistent intent. He kept them in sight, even though as the humans rushed in on him he couldn’t keep them close.

Gaster was scared, his teeth grit in a grimace that refused to leave his face. But there was purpose in his movements, intent and resolve that had been missing the first time they’d fought together. _He knew what he was doing_. Even if he didn’t like it. He practically _danced_ from place to place, sweeping away the oncoming soldiers with his precision. He used blue to make them fall into each other, soft bodies impaling on their own weapons. His long knives darted and glinted, slipping into the weak spots where armor connected, where chainmail was weak, and he took no chances. Grillby felt more than he saw the times when Gaster retreated several steps, falling in line beside the elemental as he cleared a path forward.

Amathea was a living hell, a flash of red hair as she ran, a glimmer of blue before a hailstorm of falling spears. Her voice was paralyzing, filled with a fervor that was almost enough to knock Grillby out of his rhythm once or twice. She always had a spear in her hand, flashing and spinning, striking fast as a blink and with the jagged bite of a boss monster.

 _The King_. It was almost intoxicating to feel that heavy intent and magic spreading like a blanket over the battlefield. Grillby couldn’t _see_ him, but he could _feel_ the monster was close. It sent a heavy pulse through his core when the mighty monster attacked, a shudder through his flame when the backlash of magic echoed to him. And then there were the other elementals, waves of magic that sent a tremor through the earth as if the world itself were shivering with cold. Once or twice he thought he saw a peak of rock, a break in the crowd as humans were swept aside.

Grillby shuddered.

Then all at once the fight was stalling, and the humans before them were turning and running, staggering back to the reinforcements they’d left behind. Reinforcements that were marching forward now, a tide of grim determination broken only when one or two of their fleeing comrades slipped past them.

“Alright!” Amathea screamed, her magic-infused voice carrying to all the monsters around her, “Everyone regroup!”

Brigg echoed her, “Stand together!”

It was with a jolt that Grillby realized he’d run ahead of them at some point, along with a handful of monsters around him. Grillby backtracked to Amathea, flickering a smile at Gaster who stood shortly behind her. He hadn’t noticed just how strung-out and scattered the units of monsters had become. They were coming together again quickly though, an organized scramble of movement. Behind them, Grillby could feel the shuffle of intent, _sense_ the movement forward of reinforcements, ready to fill in the gaps where monsters from his own unit had fallen or been wounded. The King’s unit was doing the same. Grillby glanced across at them and with a flicker recognized Gravin and Ora standing with the King. He was glad. Gravin knew what they were doing, and they could keep Ora alive if a mage showed up.

 _Not if_ , Grillby thought with a spark and a frown, _when_.

He couldn’t feel the intent yet, or see any difference or shift in the soldiers approaching. But with so many humans here gathered in one place, and _so sure_ of their victory… There had to be something here. Some foul magic. Some new mage. Maybe even some hell spawn like Thistle with her imitation monster magic.

The second wave crashed forward. Amathea and Brigg gave a shouted order. Grillby answered the coming army with a wave of fire and a dozen molten lances. He swept back into his rhythm. He was in constant movement - a sword stabbing forward, a shield chipping weapons like dogs’ teeth, a blaze of smoke and flame. His very armor flashed and glowed, molten from the heat he breathed. His every touch burned the world, every step permanently seared into the ground at his feet. Every move he made ended in blood and ash. Though the haze of battle, the invincible nothingness that settled over his mind as he swept through the practiced motions, a thought crawled forward.

The monsters were doing _well_. They were _winning_. They were _pushing the humans back_. With every step Grillby took forward they were a step closer to victory. With every exhale of smoke and heat, a breath of freedom was shivering forward. More of the monster army had moved forward, filling in the gaps any of the units before them made, a stubborn tide sweeping the humans back. The relentless intent of the King himself drove them forward, encouraged them with an invisible hand. Grillby doubted the other monsters could feel it in quite the same way he could. He doubted they could feel the tell-tale shudder of magic, the lurch in his chest when a sweeping attack lit the field, but it was there and it was _powerful._ They could do this. They could _win_.

Just as this thought sparked to life, the humans before him buckled and ran again. The broken line of soldiers lurched back, retreating into yet another wall of reinforcements behind them. But before Grillby or any of the monsters around him could lurch forward and give chase, Amathea’s voice was snapping them in check once again. Screaming for them to form together, to regroup, to stand firm. To do _anything_ but chase the human soldiers back to the help that was waiting for them. With stubborn obedience Grillby stepped back beside her.

“Getting overzealous there lad?” Amathea asked breathlessly, her smile confident even though her spirit was tiring. Both she and Gaster looked ragged, but mostly unharmed. Grillby berated himself for not keeping a closer eye on them.

“What I wouldn’t give for your stamina,” Gaster laughed, hands clenched tightly in his pockets so he couldn’t sign, “You feeling even a _little_ tired, Grillby?”

The elemental tilted his head to the side, thinking on that for a second before daring to flicker the pale yellow of a smile, “Not at all.”

He’d collected so much fire recently… Grillby’s soul had felt nearly full to bursting. With every attack it felt like he was sighing. He didn’t feel _tired_. He felt relieved. He could almost dare to feel _invincible_ , but he wasn’t quite that optimistic. There was trouble brewing. Grillby could feel it like a shift in the breeze.

_Where were the mages?_

As the monster armies swung into motion again, storming towards the newest wave of enemies, he got his answer. He felt it as a subtle hiss that broke through the fog of magic and intent around him. It built in his chest like thunder, rumbling a warning he felt from the very depths of his soul. Something was _wrong_. He glanced between Amathea and Gaster, wondering if they felt it too, but their faces revealed nothing.

Before the two armies engaged again, there was an explosion of magic. Magic _painfully_ like monster magic, but warped and grotesque and _very human_. It rippled out and away from a clump of soldiers to Grillby’s right, near the King and his men. Spires of ice, wheels of fire, jagged razors of crackling intent and jarring violence. It tore through monsters like paper dolls, punching holes in armor, cloying the air with dust. Gravin barely erected a wall of earth in time to stop its wrenching grasp from clawing away at the King’s HP.

“Ammy!”

“I see them, tinderbox!” She howled back, “Gaster clear us a path - !”

The skeleton was springing forward before her sentence was even finished, the air around him bruising with purple hues as the ashen beginnings of a blaster’s maw began to form. The jittering, overpowered magic shrieked and fired, sending humans scrambling and even monsters staggering back away from it. Grillby sprinted through the gap left in its wake, his fire surging forward in the snarling teeth of his lances, searing through any soldiers still standing in his way.

One of the mages saw him coming long before Grillby wanted them to, and spun to face him. She had a sword in her hand, and no gemstone or staff or magical _thing_ that Grillby could see. When she looked at him, he saw a very real fear, even as the ground around her feet crackled to life with a wave of magic. Grillby didn’t bother bracing himself behind his shield - none of it was ice or water. The mage was just another spatter of blood on the ground by the time Gaster and Amathea caught up to him. Two more of those strange mages were turning in their direction, and Grillby stormed forward to meet them.

 _The magic in the air was building_.

Grillby could feel the intent of it weighing down his soul, like some great hand pressing down on him. Maybe it was because he was standing beside the King. The monster was _strong_. He carried with him a large weapon Grillby had never seen before, like a staff or scepter but forked at the end like a serpent’s tongue, and with every sweeping gesture the boss monster made, a human’s soul changed color. Sometimes they dropped heavy and slow with blue, encumbered in a clinging purple that kept them from swinging weapons forward. Even the mages fell prey to it, and against it they were nothing. Encumbered they were picked off by Amathea’s spears, tossed into each other with Gaster’s blue, broken against spires of stone. It was as if their first attack with its crippling power was the only thing they had.

But… something was _wrong_. Grillby could feel it in his soul. Mages were dying, but the oppressive feeling of intent and magic never wavered. Even with the King standing so close… shouldn’t Grillby _feel_ the difference? And these mages… they were hardly mages at all. They used magic but… it was weak, untrained. Almost frail. And they brandished swords and shields… human weapons! Where were the staffs? The glowing crystals? Why weren’t they screaming their stronger spells?

And then Grillby saw it. A glimmer. A spark in the corner of his eye, past the flashing, jittering distraction of the mages before him. A light held aloft. A light attached to something. A light that pulsed with intent. It was about the moment Grillby saw it that the King stepped close beside him, _towered_ over him really, a mighty sweep of his forked staff knocking three mages off their feet. Behind them stood a tall figure, lips moving in some words Grillby couldn’t hear, staff held aloft as the light gave a pulse.

“Grillby!” Gaster’s screech startled the elemental, made him flinch, but it made him _listen_ , “Stop him! That’s a spell! He’s saying _a spell!”_

Grillby lurched forward.

_The intent of the King was close beside him._

He was stopped as one of the mages that had fallen clamored to their feet and lunged for him. Grillby winced against the sting of frigid ice, bit down a cry as something speared into his shoulder. He rammed his shield into the mage’s body, stumbling them back. His sword flashed forward and he ignited the air in the same instant.

_He could feel the King moving past him._

The mage at Grillby’s sword screamed and fell, but another was springing in it’s place. Screaming. Almost _frantic_. Desperate to keep the elemental back. And another was running towards him, heedless of how the other was already failing, intent on only one thing.

 _The King was moving farther_.

Grillby could feel it in the magic that ripped through him - useless electricity that absorbed into his core as if it had never existed. They didn’t care if they died. They didn’t care if they lived. They cared about _stopping him_.

A spire of stone knocked them aside as if they were nothing and Gravin was lunging past Grillby in a headlong sprint for the King. Ora was hot on their heels, but a nearby human tackled her, pulled her to the ground. It was dead in an instant, but it had knocked her off her feet.

 _They didn’t care_.

The light on the staff was _painfully bright_ now, and whatever magic it was carrying nearly had Grillby breathless from the weight of it. And the King was _so close to it_. Too close. And so was -

Gaster was at his side, a step ahead of Amathea, and without thinking Grillby spun on his heel and grabbed for them. One hand clamped itself around Gaster’s arm, and Grillby tossed the skeleton to the ground. The fingers of his other hand clenched around the fabric of Amathea’s cape, yanking her to a stop -

\- the light on the staff flashed once, silhouetting the King and Gravin as the elemental grabbed him. Then with a rush of white, the magic released -

Grillby lost track of everything.

All he could see was white.

All he could feel was wind.

All he heard was roaring.

 

All he tasted was dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to put all of this in one chapter but I was at 8000 words and I wasn't done.  
> And it's 2:30am but that's only a slight factor at this point.
> 
> Next week's chapter should be on time though.


	48. Wildfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A storm is loosed upon the sea  
> Whose eye is stained with tears.  
> A wretch Hell-bound and bent on blood,  
> The makings of the fearful's fears."

Grillby hit something, and he hit it _hard_. He felt the tremble through every inch of his core almost as forceful as the shudder of magic that threatened to rip his soul apart. And white. Everything was _all-consuming white_. It screamed contempt, hatred. It screamed righteous victory. It left Grillby’s head spinning, his soul jittering a frenetic and pseudo-heartbeat in his chest. He slumped but didn’t fall, and for a moment he wondered if he was on the ground, and was just too disoriented to know it. With nothing but white in his vision and shaking in his soul, it was hard to tell up from down. _But_ he could tell there was ground beneath his feet - he must have been thrown back into something.

Grillby blinked and shook his head, trying to free his vision of that blinding white. It took a long moment for his vision to clear. At first everything was blurry; all shapes, silhouettes, patches of black and grey and tentative color. And he saw… he… he saw a shimmering white soul, twitching and squirming above a scattered pile of dust. For a second it looked like it might stay, like it might rethink its passing. And in that instant it shattered, a sprinkling of light and then nothing. Grillby blinked at it dumbly, breathed in the air that swirled with dust; an air now damningly devoid of intent and magic.

 _The King_. The King was dust.

More of the shapes in Grillby’s vision were clearing, though a soft blur still hedged most of them. They were... bodies. Humans. Dying monsters. Pillars of dust, armor and scattered inventory that had once been soldiers. They were blood and weapons and dust for dozens of feet, and only one of those things were intact. The mage. The _actual mage_ , staff in hand, garbed in all white as if it were impossible for the desolation they had caused to soil it. They were surrounded by their pawns - what had once been _humans,_ throwing around borrowed magic, flashing lights, loud noises, _distractions_ \- all of them now either dead or dying at the mage’s feet, their bodies strewn about haphazard and broken from the force of the spell. All victims to whatever foul explosion the creature had concocted to kill the King.

An angry fire started bubbling up in Grillby’s stomach, pitching his flame blue and white. His hands clenched into the surface behind him - a wall? Gravin’s wall, the shield the elemental had summoned to save the King from the first blast. Under Grillby’s fingertips he could feel cracks and scores in it - the shattering force of the blast had threatened to crumble it, but it stood. Grillby pushed against it, stepped forward and -

He stopped abruptly, locked in place, a tug squeezing against his gut. Grillby looked down and flickered a shuddering scowl, “Sh… _shit._ ”

There was something twisting its way out of his stomach, some bent about piece of metal. Maybe a spear? Maybe what was left of his own sword? It caught in the links of his chainmail - no it wasn’t caught, it was _fused_. Fused to the chainmail links that had softened against Grillby’s flame while he had been fighting. They were interlaced so intricately into each other that Grillby _couldn’t move_ , even though he pushed and yanked. Even though his fingers clawed and groped and pulled.

Something moved in his peripheral and Grillby snapped his head up to look, panic tightening in his soul, expecting the mage. But it was… it was… Gravin? _Oh gods_ it was _Gravin_. The elemental was staggering to their feet but… they weren’t _right_. They’d been so close to the blast, right beside their King. And now they stood, hands shaking and gripping desperately at their chest where Grillby could see a deep, spiraling crack. It spider-webbed outwards from their center - down their arms, sunk like scars into their neck, fractured painfully across their face - and fine, crystalline sand poured from it. They didn’t bother looking to the mage. There was no fight left in them, nothing at all but the core of stone that still struggled to hold them all together. But they cast their flashing garnet eyes on Grillby, what was left of their crumbling will, magic and intent reaching out for him. Calling for him. Begging for help. Looking for understanding. Wanting _anything except_ what was happening now. They took a step, collapsed and fell with a painful groan; and when they hit the ground their whole body cracked apart into sand, the light of their soul shivering and then snuffing out like a candle.

“No…” Grillby breathed. He blinked at what was left of them, what was left of _an elemental_. What was left of a creature _like him_. Dust and sand and nothing. _Gone_. Grillby’s stomach gave a churn and for a heartbeat he thought he might get sick. And then he felt the weight of the mage’s gaze and intent wrap itself around his soul. The light on their staff flashed as they started moving towards Grillby - the only monster standing for dozens of feet, pinned to a wall, trapped, helpless.

The minute the mage moved, panic spurred Grillby into motion. He lurched against the twisted metal, struggling to pull himself free. Praying if he scrambled hard enough something would give, and he’d rip himself off the spike that held him still. _But nothing budged!_ He realized again that the metal trap was fused together, the twisted weapon permanently locked with his chainmail. He wrapped his shaking hands around where the metal had meshed together and fanned himself hotter, as hot as he could manage. If he could just heat them up enough maybe he could melt them and work himself free - !

The mage spoke a word, and faster than lightning ice sprung into existence in the distance between them. Grillby’s first reflex was to lurch back, as if somehow he could dodge out of the way, or bury himself in the stone behind him. It was at the last second that he remembered his magic, and with a wince Grillby met the coming ice with a wave of heat and devouring flame. The two elements crashed together and sputtered out, nothing but water and steam that turned the dust at the mage’s feet into mud. The mage kept walking. Their lip curled in some look of mild annoyance as the remains stained the hem of their robes. Their staff flashed and they spoke the spell word again.

Grillby met the ice with more fire, and as he did he desperately scrabbled at the metal between his fingers. It was hot, just beginning to glow, but it barely moved beneath his touch. He wished with everything he had that he were strong enough to just rip it apart, but instead he could hardly bend it.

When the mage spoke again, they didn’t speak one word, but _two_. The ice that rose to meet Grillby moved quicker, pointed like swords and shimmering with heavy intent. Grillby fended it off again, but the air around him grew colder and the ice fizzled out of existence into frost near his feet. The mage spoke the two words again, and when the magics met Grillby winced against the touch of cold on his boots.  

Grillby was _so close_ to being free! His dread only served to flush his flame hotter, and with it the metal in his hands. It was glowing brighter than coals now, and bent beneath his touch, and he could feel the links of his armor starting to pull apart.

The mage was just steps away from him now, clearly annoyed at this stubborn elemental that dared defy it. And they were muttering, not one or two words, but several, stringing together a spell out of their own disdain. As Grillby listened to it his struggling slowed to a stop, dread closing cold hands around his soul and freezing him still. There was no point… was there? Even if he freed himself now… could he escape the storm of a spell that was building? Already it was turning the air cold, a sharp bite shredding at Grillby’s throat with every one of his frantic breaths. Some thought detached itself from the rest of his growing panic, floating and strangely calm - _whatever spell the mage was making... wouldn’t hurt for very long._

There was a burst of magic, and Grillby flinched. But instead of a stabbing flood of ice, Grillby saw a flash of _green_. It cut the mage off halfway through a word, and suddenly they were being yanked to their knees. A glimmering, heavy shield attached itself to the mage’s arm and soul - it flickered to life so suddenly the mage nearly dropped their staff. For a second the mage glared angrily at Grillby as if somehow this was the trapped elemental’s fault. Until a voice yanked away both of their attentions.

Amathea had hauled herself to her feet from where the blast had thrown her, leaning heavily on a flickering teal spear. She didn’t look like she should even be _standing_ \- battered and scraped, blood and magic running into one of her eyes from a nasty cut on her forehead, forcing that eye shut. But she stood anyway, more of those angry spears bristling to life in the air around her. At first they summoned slowly, one-by-one, fluttering weakly as if she didn’t even know she could still make them. And then in a rush there were suddenly dozens, glowing bright and teal and angry. Her voice was ragged and severe, her teeth bared in a defiant snarl.

“Over my _dust_ ,” she spat, “Will you harm that boy.”

“Ammy _no!”_ Grillby screamed, but she was already darting forward, her hail of spears coming to bear on that sputtering magic shield holding the mage in place, “What are you - ?! _Ammy stop!”_

But of course, she had no intention of listening to him. Her face was set in a look of grim determination and stubborn grit. And Grillby was horrified by it. _She should be running away!_

Frantically he got back to work on freeing himself, muttering frantically as he wrenched and pulled at the stubborn metal. He was shaking; he was shaking _so badly_ he could barely keep ahold of the metal links in his hands. His soul wrenched in his chest, everything in him screamed at him to move, to get free, to _go now._ He’d never been so scared in his life. This compared to _nothing_. He would fight a thousand mages; he would run across a million bridges. He would stand in a rainstorm before he let Amathea _fight this mage_ _alone_. He needed to get free. _He needed to get free before it killed her!_ It was with a strangled shout that Grillby managed to finally bend the piece of metal straight enough, pull the links fused to it far enough apart, weaken the bonds that held them together _just enough_. He lurched forward, stumbled, nearly fell - and then he was running.

The shield wasn’t holding the mage anymore, but the hail of spears continued relentlessly. From the ground, from the sky. Sometimes they jabbed forward only to suddenly reverse and stab at the mage from behind. Sometimes they crackled green, ready to trap them again. And through it all Amathea was running in circles dodging spells, half blind, praying for an opening, a weak spot, _anything_ that could end this fight before she exhausted herself. Because she was _exhausted_. Grillby could see it in the shudder in her spears even though her steps were sure. He’d never seen her magic weak, never seen it so much as flicker for even a moment. Seeing it here, seeing it _now,_ was like watching an executioner raise their axe above her neck. An executioner made of magic and contempt.

And then Grillby was at her side, scooping up a bloody sword from where some fool human had dropped it. He had no idea where his was - for all he knew it was his own sword that had pinned him to the damn wall. This one would have to do. Lances of fire flickered to life and Grillby drove them at the mage, scowling when the human deftly warded them away. Then the mage shouted a spell at the two of them, and both Amathea and Grillby darted out of the way. Grillby scowled, it had only been lightning.

He needed to know these spells so he could fight them! He needed help! He… he needed _Gaster_. He’d lost sight of… He’d… _where was Gaster?_

Grillby stamped the thought away. He was worried about Gaster but he couldn’t let it consume him now. He needed to focus. He needed to _fight_. He needed to save Amathea. Really, he needed her to _run._ But she wouldn’t. Not until the mage that had destroyed _everything_ was dead.

_The mage that had killed their King._

Grillby darted forward, and with him he tossed forward a few more lances of flame. The mage parried them with a flourish of their staff, that white light flashing. Amathea’s spears clipped the beast’s shoulder - they hadn’t been paying enough attention to shield themselves. But the HP snapped away was just a few drops in an ocean of blood.

_The mage that had shattered Gravin._

The mage shouted a breathless spell, backtracking a few steps from the two relentless monsters, each desperate to save each other. The mage looked like they might be tiring. Maybe the spell they had set off earlier was finally catching up with them. Either way, in spite of it, spires of ice shattered the ground and raced forward faster than a thought, a blink. Grillby leaped out of their way, pivoted on the foot that landed first and thrust forward. He slashed his borrowed sword forward with all his might just to watch the battered metal break against another biting ward.

_The mage that had wiped out monsters and men with a single, soul-ripping spell._

When the mage threw forward those jagged spires of ice again, Grillby was too close to dodge it. But he didn’t have to. Amathea leaped towards the elemental, running him through with a crackling green spear and latching that shield onto his soul. Some of the ice shattered against it. Some bit into Grillby’s leg, clipped against his shoulder, anything that couldn’t hide behind that tiny piece of safety and -

_Amathea screamed._

It was a reeling scream, ripping and painful and filled to the brim with shattering magic. It staggered both Grillby and the mage, but Grillby winced his way through it. He’d heard this magic before. It gripped him, sang to him, sank daggers into his soul but he was strong enough to pull against it with every bit of resolve he had left. He wanted _one thing_. Now, while the mage was stunned, hands pressed against their ears trying to shut out the awful noise. Grillby just wanted to _end this_.

Flame leaped from Grillby’s hands and across the broken sword he was holding. It warped across the useless metal, snaked wraithlike into its own shape. A blade made of fire. Grillby slashed it forward, sighing with relief as Amathea’s shield dropped away from him, letting him move faster before the mage could recover. His weapon of magic cleaved right through the mage’s robes, melting the chainmail beneath it, sinking through to the soft flesh under it all.

And just like that it was over. What was left of the mage’s magic dropped away. The fiery weapon Grillby had mustered fizzled out when they fell. Grillby managed a small, strained laugh from relief. He… didn’t know he could do that. Grillby shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to feel pride about this. The elemental spun on his heel.

“Come on Ammy, we’ve got to find Gaster and get…” Grillby stopped in his tracks.

Amathea... wasn’t looking at him. She was blinking down at her own hand… her fingers curled into gripping claws against her stomach, fervent and desperate despite the look of... _terrifying_ apathy on her face.

She was clutching at a wound, a wound that was leaking so much blood and magic it had already stained the front of her in red and was starting to run down her legs and onto her boots. There was ice at her feet, those glittering, sharpened spines that were made to run Grillby through. What her shield had saved him from. The reason why she hadn’t been able to save herself.

Amathea blinked down at it for a moment, mouth set in a frown that revealed nothing; no pain or disappointment, no fear. She opened her mouth to say something, but the minute she tried to speak she was doubling over. Grillby lunged forward as she did, just managing to catch her before she could slump to the ground. Amathea let out some garbled, painful noise that no monster was ever supposed to make, the rough jostling as Grillby sunk to the ground with her agitating her wound. Grillby pressed his hand against hers, trying to help stem the flow of the blood. He hardly felt it as the damning mix of blood and magic sent an ache through his hand, his flame sputtering and going out against it. Gods above there was _so much of it_.

Grillby snapped his gaze up to the world around him, eyes searching for _one_ monster. The only monster he needed right now. Gaster. _Where was Gaster?!_

“I could...” Grillby stammered when his frantic search yielded nothing, “Could I stop the bleeding? I could burn it closed or…”

“I doubt there’s enough of me left for that,” she responded, her voice an unsettling and grim sort of calm.

Grillby’s mind sputtered to a halt, his stomach suddenly feeling like it was full of stones. She was… right. Of course she was right. She was _always right._ He could feel it in the wane magic that was rapidly flickering out. In the way her form wavered beneath his touch, slowly beginning to break apart. She was dying. He had no idea what was even holding her together now. A lesser monster would already be dust. But Amathea was vicious and strong, and her resolve kept her together for a bit longer.

“Why did you do that?” Grillby managed to ask, his voice quivering with his panicked breathing.

Amathea winced, her teeth baring in a bitter smile, “I had to save one of you.”

What small vestige of hope Grillby might have left shuddered its way out of his soul, and with it came a creeping sense of numb. It was so gripping and cold, for a few seconds he thought it might kill him right then. He wanted it to.

Gaster could fix this. Gaster could stop this. But… Gaster was… Gaster was already gone… wasn't he…? How could Gaster ever… hope to survive… a blast that could kill an elemental…?

Grillby’s breath left him in a hopeless, shivering gasp. _No._

“Grillby listen to me,” Amathea breathed, her voice grounding him back in the present, her eyes searching and urgent, startlingly vibrant even though the rest of her was growing ashen, “Monsters… need to know what happened here.”

Dumbly, Grillby nodded.

“Save as many here... as you can.”

Again Grillby nodded, “I will.”

He was surprised she could hear his voice with how quiet it had become. He was surprised he recognized hers. So warped by pain. Faltering. Wincing. Dusting.

 _Dying_.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. This was supposed to be the other way around. He had been summoned so this wouldn’t happen. She should have left him pinned there to the wall. She should have let him die.

_This wasn’t supposed to happen._

“My… letters,” Amathea stammered. She was fading so fast, relaxing into his arms as if the pain just didn’t exist anymore, “... Thetis.”

“I’ll get them to her,” Grillby promised.

Amathea gave a wan smile, leaning her head against his chest. She moved her hand then, curling her bloodied fingers around his in a weak squeeze.

“Thank the... gods for you… Grillby.”

Grillby pulled her as close as he could, leaning forward to brush his forehead against hers. If the movement pained her, she showed no signs of it. Maybe she couldn’t even feel it anymore. Amathea breathed out a final sigh and then suddenly she was slipping through Grillby’s fingers. Everything about her collapsed, crumbling away into nothing.

Grillby looked down at the dust that pooled in his hands, the creases and folds in his clothes, the scattered items of her inventory and armor that tumbled loose onto the messy ground he kneeled on. Grillby knelt there and stared. Frozen. Feeling very much like a pair of hands had just reached inside his chest and stomach and dragged out whatever was inside.

He was… empty. He had... nothing left. Grillby suddenly found himself devoid of everything, the will to move, the want to live. A fog was building in his mind, cutting off coherent thought and bringing with it an intense feeling of void-like pain in his soul. It felt like someone had replaced everything inside him with freezing water. Like the rain was falling on him from the inside out.

Gaster and Amathea were dead.

There was a thunder rumbling in the ground. He ignored it. There was a noise, persistent, sounding towards him. It might as well not exist. Some cold grip had clamped itself around his soul and refused to let go. Beneath it was a building nausea and an ache, a consuming sort of emptiness that sat like cold friction where his lungs should be. But for a moment it was being kept at bay, sated by the freezing grip of numb.

_Save as many here as you can._

Right… he… had a job to do.

_Monsters need to know what happened here._

He needed... to move. He… wasn’t allowed to... stay here. She’d... told him what to do next. He didn’t have it left in him to ignore her.

 _Her letters._ _Thetis._

With a mechanical, almost impulsive movement, Grillby reached forward into the mess of dust and armor and searched. He found three letters. His mind was too fuzzy to try and read the names written on them. He slipped them into his inventory and staggered to his feet. Dust tumbled off of him and onto the ground and he backed away from it, terrified he might disturb what had once been… what… what had been…

Something escaped the numb - a hiccup that built in his chest and very terribly resembled a sob. Grillby swallowed it down, feeling very much like he was choking on a hunk of ice. Something was making noise nearby him, a buzzing, persistent thing that begged for his attention. Grillby searched for it.

_Save as many here as you can._

Humans were coming, daring to file into the gap the mage had made. But they weren’t going to make it to Grillby. Something was coming for them first, a cloud of mournful intent that shone like the King’s. The Prince. The Prince was coming. Asgore, riding in with his horsemen, screaming orders to the scattered monsters to retreat. To fall back as fast as they could while he bought them time.

Grillby found what he was looking for, the voice calling him. It was _Ora_. She was alive, though not unharmed enough to be useful. She was hurt, tossed to the ground not too far from where Gravin had fallen. She’d been behind him, struggling against a human. She was lucky, Grillby supposed. Just like he was lucky. Another one of those fretful hiccups built in his chest and again Grillby fought it down.

_Gaster and Amathea were dead._

Ora blinked up at him from where she’d fallen. For a second she was terrified, he felt it ripple through her magic. She didn’t recognize him. Or maybe she did, and that was what scared her. Whatever the reason, it washed away not a breath later, replaced by relief and pain. There was a vicious shatter in her leg, sand and magic oozing through her fingers as she clutched at it. Grillby knelt down and wrapped his arms around her. Together they stumbled into standing, Ora crying quietly with every movement.

That was when a wave of intent washed over the both of them, and Ora started crying a little louder.

“Is that a mage?” she whispered.

Grillby dared a glance back over his shoulder. He was sure it was. But he felt no worry. Only cold.

_Why should he bother?_

Prince - no wait… he was the King now... wasn’t he? - _King_ Asgore galloped past them, shouting his same orders. Retreat. Get to safety. This battle is lost. His horsemen followed, magic roaring to life as they fought to buy time for the wounded foot soldiers that scrambled and limped away. Two of the horses stopped, one of the riders dismounted. It was Terros. The stone elemental took Ora’s other arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. Grillby realized the rider still on horseback was Umber. The two stone elementals said something to each other that Grillby didn’t care to listen to, and he was sure he wouldn’t remember if he did. But he could feel their worry, and from Umber a certain grim resolve that reminded him of Amathea.

Grillby wanted to feel sad about that, but there wasn’t enough sadness left in him. It had all been eaten up by the only two monsters in the world that cared, that dared him to wish for things he should have known he’d never have. That begged him to remember himself, and had probably died because he did. Because they cared too much. Because if they didn’t care for him, to stay with him, neither of them would have been close to the mage.

_Amathea. Gaster._

Grillby swallowed hard, scowled miserably and stepped forward. They started out walking, but that soon turned into dragging Ora as fast as they could forward. Grillby let Terros lead them, let the stone elemental think for all three of them. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, on swallowing down those bubbling, sickly sobs, on letting the numb swallow him whole. Somewhere behind them Grillby could feel the growing intent of the second mage. Were they using the same spell as the first one? Would they kill Asgore as well?

 _No_ , Grillby thought with grim certainty, _they would kill Umber._

Because from the back of the battle, on a tall warhorse, the elementals had probably watched the disaster unfold as grandly as if they were sitting in a theater. And Umber and Terros had probably decided then who would stay with the new King, and who would save Ora. Umber was trying to be brave and helpful. Or maybe he was just trying to prove when he’d spoken to Grillby it had meant nothing, that he would still die for his King if it was asked of him. He was doing what Grillby should have done. He was -

“Grillby?” Ora asked past a wince of pain as they walked, “What’s happened? Your magic feels terrible.”

“It _is_ terrible,” Grillby responded quietly. It felt very much like he was trying to speak past a fist lodged in his throat.

They caught up to and passed a few other groups of monsters, among them were monsters Grillby recognized from Brigg’s unit. Grillby felt the barest flutters of relief when the dragon monster ran over to him. Brigg was _angry_. Grillby didn’t need to feel the dragon’s magic to know that. He could see it in his burning eyes and the snarl on his teeth.

“What the hell happened over there, elemental?” Brigg demanded.

“The mage happened,” Grillby answered distantly. His throat hurt from every sob he’d swallowed up, from the emotion he was barely containing. His numb was thawing, and he didn’t want it to. Not now.

Blurs of motion sped past them, and Grillby’s hazy mind recognized them as the horses coming back again. There were a lot of monsters missing. Umber was one of them. Grillby was unsurprised. Ora’s crying turned into sobs and past her there was an obvious shift in Terros’ magic as well, a loss of hope, a building grief. Grillby thought he might be buried alive in it. Maybe he already was.

The numb was thawing faster.

A new thunder started, and for a few seconds Grillby wondered if whatever mage was chasing them had summoned a storm. He wondered if it would even be worth it to try and run from something like that. There was a panic growing in the air that wasn’t from a storm though. Regular monsters had nothing to fear from something like that. They had no reason to be running, _scrambling_ the way they were. Monsters that had begun to slow in exhaustion were suddenly yelling and staggering faster. Brigg looked behind them. It was the first time Grillby had ever seen fear on the dragon’s face.

“It’s the route,” he breathed.

The dragon monster cast a furtive gaze forward, at the scattered armies that ran and clamored, “The trees. If we can get everyone to the trees we might stand a chance.”

“They have another mage!” Terros shouted, “And how many horses? Trees might slow them down but it won’t stop them!”

“It’s all we have left,” the commander snarled in reply, “Unless you’d like to slow them down yourself!”

There was a bite in Brigg’s words that made Grillby want to be angry. If that numbness weren’t consuming him, he might be. What hope did they have against mages like _that_ , with incantations that could turn a boss monster to dust? Magic that could kill a warrior like Amathea? There was nothing they could do. They were all going to die.

Grillby almost didn’t notice it when the world dimmed as they entered the forest. Ahead of him, monsters were still scattering. Even further past them, Asgore was trying to regain some control. Apparently he’d had the same idea as Brigg, that perhaps they could fight off the horsemen if they could band together in the trees. But there was too much panic and fear, the air was thick with it. And they were so few. How many of them were left? How many were still scrambling for shelter? How many had already given up hope?

Amathea had been right. This battle had been cursed from the start. The intent, the murder, the grimness that hung in the breeze. There was no denying it now. Grillby almost didn’t care to.

_Save as many here as you can._

Save _what_ and _how?_ They had nothing left. There was… nothing… nothing Grillby could do… He might as well lie down and wait for the humans to come. He might as well…

The wind scattered a few of the leaves from the trees, and Grillby blinked numbly as they tumbled past him. It sent a few of his sparks jittering away back the way he’d come. It… fanned an idea to life in the back of his head. The wind. The forest. They were… they were perfect. The breeze was pushing back towards the field, away from the fleeing monsters. And any fire would follow it - !

“Grillby?”

The elemental didn’t realize he’d stopped walking until Ora’s voice re-centered him. Brigg had stopped too, and was watching him contemplatively. Grillby could almost pretend the dragon looked worried. Grillby slipped Ora’s arm off his shoulders.

“Brigg, help them,” he commanded.

“No!” Ora screeched, “Grillby don’t you _dare!”_

“They killed Gravin and Umber already,” Terros shouted, his voice some mix between angry and frantic, “What do you think you can do that will be any different?”

Grillby wasn’t listening to them. His thoughts were coming to life again, like some drowning creature pulling their head up from above cold water. The numbness and despair that clung to him threatened to pull him under again, but he clung for a few seconds to a single thought. Not a thought. A story. One that Amathea had told him.

And he had just enough burning misery in his soul to make it work.

Brigg picked up Ora where Grillby dropped her, nodding for the elemental to go. And he did. He turned and walked back the direction he’d come, leaves crackled beneath his feet with every step, the tugging breeze pulled him forward. Grillby heaved out a sigh of smoke, scattering thousands of sparks with every step. Everywhere they landed, fire flickered to life. It was an act of will and concentration he wasn’t used to, but he managed to cling onto them, direct them, keep them from burning directionless and without his guidance.

Monsters were still running past him, fleeing to safety. Fleeing the horses charging across the valley after them. Grillby could see the glinting armor through the trees.

The trees were _perfect_ , the carpet of fallen leaves about all their bases were a gift. And he lit them all. They were all _his_. He could feel them listening to him, bent by his will even though they burned outside of him. It was the same feeling he got just before he devoured a campfire, but instead of a single thing glimmering awareness back at him, he felt _dozens._

He didn’t have much to tell the flames. He didn’t need to tell them anything, really. All he wanted them to do was _burn_. And they did. Each pocket of flame devoured and spread. With a turn of a thought from Grillby they snaked their way up trees, lighting branches, leaves that still clung and shuddered fretfully in the wind caused by the rising heat. With every breath, he willed them to spread further.

_He wanted to light the whole world on fire._

Grillby stopped his forward march, his arms spreading open slightly as if the motion could guide his magic where his mind struggled to. Like one single, giant beast breathing every fire around him sighed outward and lit the things nearest to it. He willed them burn hotter, every fire the same pallid white hue as Grillby’s own miserable flame. He willed them burn higher, crawling up trees like ghostly claws, brushing the sky with begging hands. He begged them to burn farther, and they reached again. Hungry. Consuming. Chaotic.

_He wanted everything he saw to burn._

The entire forest in front of him was in flames now, and the look of it ripped a miserable laugh-turned-sob from his throat. Monsters were still running through it, the last stragglers only steps in front of the horses chasing them. Some of them made it past Grillby, staggering, coughing out smoke and sparks and nursing burns. Others didn’t. For a second his flame shuddered, his grip on the immense amount of magic around him slipping as he watched a few of the things he was supposed to be saving _fall_. But he refused to let his grip on that magic slip. Refused to let the fires pitch away from their own all-consuming whites and yellows. He poured every ounce of his strength, intent, his _soul_ into that inferno he was making. Every breath he breathed was smoke. Everything he saw was light. All he felt was heat.

A nauseous, tense sort of pain wormed its way through Grillby’s chest, and with a scowl he reached his fire further. That numbing apathy that had claimed him earlier was all but gone, and a clawing emptiness was opening up in his soul. Maybe if he burned just a little bit more he could stave it off. He reached, magic groping forward farther still. The flame spread out to the sides, a line, an impassible wall. The emptiness in him kept growing.

 _They’re gone_ , it hissed at him

There was a ripple in his perfect wall of light, a tug he felt more than saw. A hitch. A flicker. A glimmer of cold white that bit at the flames he harried forward. And with it came a pouring intent, angry and yelling. The second mage that Grillby had yet to spot. But he could feel them, and he could see where their magic was working straight ahead of him. Like a soothing hand it brushed back his blazing intent, cooling it with a spiral of air and water and ice. Making a path and pressing forward. Two, three spells passed and Grillby watched the flames in front of him begin parting. Hesitantly, horses and their riders stepped forward, spurred into a trot and then a gallop. Grillby scowled at them, pressing the fire in towards them, hoping to swallow them up.

As he did this his vision blurred, his throat aching and constricting as he tried to contain his emotion. Tears started falling anyway. He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t stop it. The hiccupping sobs he’d been swallowing down tore into his throat, fought their way free despite his every wish. Fear, exasperation at his own _uselessness_ , and anguish all writhed around inside of him, dancing with that ugly emptiness.

_They’re gone forever. You’ve lost them._

There was the second mage at the front, garbed in some dark color with a flashing staff that stopped Grillby’s inferno from turning them all to ash where they rode. The mage set their eyes on Grillby and fired a spell. The elemental lurched back against the heavy hit of some sort of ice into his chest. It _hurt_ , snapped away his health and a gasp of his breath. It would have knocked him off his feet if there hadn’t been a form standing behind him, catching him.

It was Terros. The stone elemental towered over Grillby, hardened features contorted in a look of anger, a frown flashing in his opalescent eyes

“Would you like some help, little brother?” Terros asked, and in his touch Grillby felt a flare of grief-stricken wrath.

That was when a tree cracked and shuddered and fell, crushing a handful of horses and breaking the gallop of the ones behind them abruptly. Suddenly the mage found themselves very alone, the rest of their soldiers trapped behind falling, flaming trees. They wheeled their horse to look behind them, magic wavering as they realized there was no going back. Fire was claiming everything.

The earth shuddered with Terros’ magic and more trees fell, the ground they were seated in suddenly moving and felling them. Grillby took the help gladly. With a sharp breath of smoke he sent forward several lances, flashing blinding hues of yellow and white towards that solitary mage, and with a will from his soul Grillby pulled the path the creature had made shut again. There was the spark of several wards, the frantic screaming of spells and persistent determination. But they were surrounded by Grillby’s element, surrounded by his soul, and all the foul intent that came with his misery. They couldn’t stop the trees from falling, let alone the world from burning. Somewhere in the heat and the haze, whatever wards they were using broke. Grillby watched their soul flicker with persistent color before it shattered.

The emptiness eating up his insides twisted. It dug claws into his chest and buried itself in him deeper. And in response he reached his magic farther, pushed every flame he could feel towards the horizon. Beside him, Terros was staring, confused that the Grillby hadn’t stopped even though the fight was over. He couldn’t understand. _No one_ could understand this.

_Despite everything they’d done for you, you failed them in the end. Your new purpose. Your reason to live past this war._

The blaze and smoke around Grillby suddenly felt stifling, every bitter emotion inside him leaking into his magic and crashing back onto him again, burying him in the feelings that kept clawing at his insides. He wondered if the humans could feel it as it burned them. Could they hear him crying, _screaming_ , in every sputter and roar and spark of his magic? Could they feel the painful empty they had shoved inside him?

At some point Grillby reached too far. He pushed his magic as far as it could go. With a rush like some giant’s sigh it ripped away from him, fanning outwards with the breeze one last time. When it did, Grillby sank to his knees, screaming, sobbing, his hands curling into the dirt and ash on the ground. Grasping for something that would make him stop, make _everything_ he was feeling _stop_. Through blurry, streaking vision he watched as the flames turned into normal colors, oranges and yellows, laced in places with soft blue and white. It flickered a little lower, a little dimmer, free of Grillby’s anguished will to burn high and fierce and far-reaching. But it would continue to burn without him. Consuming everything. It was free but it wouldn’t die.

Everything Grillby could see from one horizon to the other was fire and heat, but all he felt was empty and cold. The cold, numbness in his soul crawled free of his stomach, wrapping claws around his chest to stop his vicious sobbing, silencing his cries before they could make it any further out of his throat.

“Little brother.”

Grillby dragged his eyes up to Terros. He felt so small, so stupid and broken compared to the towering creature of stone beside him.

“We need to leave.”

“Go then,” Grillby rasped, tearing his gaze back to the wall of flame he’d created, “Leave me here.”

“There are monsters here that need you.”

Grillby swiped a hand across his face, trying to rid himself of what remained of his hysterics, “I don’t care.”

Terros looked like he might try to get Grillby to move again, but a stifling, haze of intent cut him off before a word could be spoken. A large form swept towards Grillby, purple cape and golden armor all soiled by blood and dust. He stopped beside the elemental, gaze heavy and sorrowful. Grillby didn’t dare look up at him. If anything he wanted to make himself smaller, to disappear into the ground at the proud monster’s feet.

Asgore spoke as though the weight of the world were dragging through his voice, “You cannot give up hope yet, elemental.”

Grillby squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, trying to stifle a hiccupping sob before it could manifest in his chest.

“You were the one that Amathea commanded, were you not?”

Grillby nodded. He didn’t trust his voice to speak.

“What was the last thing she told you?”

“She… gave me letters,” Grillby finally managed, squeezing his eyes shut and frowning miserably, “For her... sister…”

 _Thetis_. She’d told him to find Thetis. Oh gods above _no_. How could he face her? How could he tell her anything? What would he say? No. _No_.

“I will help you get them to her,” Asgore said gently, bending to offer Grillby his hand.

Grillby looked at the King’s hand dumbly for a second, trying to compose himself. Trying to at the very least _breathe_ normally. It was several long, swallowing seconds before Grillby could bring himself to take Asgore’s hand and allow himself to be pulled to his feet. The King turned and walked, and Grillby stumbled after him, feeling that creeping numbness grasp his soul a little tighter. It dulled the fierce pain of loss and empty in his chest, turned it into a throbbing ache instead of wrenching grief. Terros placed a hand on the small of Grillby’s back, helping steer him towards the rest of the monsters. Towards Ora and Brigg. His touch exuded an attempt at comfort, but it was too muddled by his own grief to be of any real help.

The King started talking, his voice addressing the ragged army that had managed to escape. Grillby didn’t listen. He didn’t need to listen. When they moved, he followed. He stayed near Brigg, helping support Ora as they all staggered away from their failure. No one spoke. No one cried. They simply turned their backs to the fire and walked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A storm is loosed upon the sea  
> Whose eye is stained with tears.  
> A wretch Hell-bound and bent on blood,  
> The makings of the fearful's fears.
> 
> The tide it stole away her grace,  
> the depths, they wouldn't claim her.  
> A toil begat by father's blood  
> This path was laid before her.
> 
> Redemption borne by brigand's blood  
> A blight upon the darkness.  
> The pact embraced, a road unsought  
> The Maiden of Death won't be unwrought.
> 
> Her wrath is known throughout the black,  
> the gardens of death she is tending  
> Vengeance is her only ward  
> Beware the blood red rose's thorn."
> 
> ~ Blood Red Roses by C21fx
> 
>  
> 
> Sometimes I post song lyrics to hide my emotions


	49. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the battle wasn't the only thing that was lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fffanart Feature! There's a lot of it this time around ahhhhh... ohhhh jeez.
> 
> First we have two from Loumum-Versen on Deviantart! One was actually posted before the last chapter went up, but I didn't want to post any notes on that chapter, so I didn't put it here until this week. Sorry for that!  
> They did an [absolutely amazing comic to illustrate the end of Ch 47](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/Inktober-2016-Day-29-642851927). You can really feel the urgency and the build and just... fffffffffffffffffffffffffffff.  
> And then the second was [an amazing illustration of Ammy's from Ch 48.](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/UT-Over-my-dust-643822542) Ahhhhh my heart. Hnnnnnnngh jeez. They really keep punching me in the feels over here!
> 
> The next is a picture of [Ammy just being freakin' awesome by drawing-intherain on Tumblr.](http://theblogofcastingrain.tumblr.com/post/152767949227/drawing-intherain-theblogofcastingrain) Honestly the way they did the armor is stellar, and the use of colored pencilssssssss
> 
> And another beautiful colored pencil thing of [the gang just being cute together by netikas on Tumblr.](http://theblogofcastingrain.tumblr.com/post/152773396317/netikas-casting-rain-fanart-chapter-48-was) Their art style is adorable! And it's a nice bit of fluff to ease the pain of... recent events. :'D

Something in Grillby… stopped... working. It wasn't something he rightly noticed really, It was more something he  _stopped_ noticing. He stopped… feeling. Everything was covered in a colorless haze like smoke. Greyer than dust. Colder than autumn. Apathetic as a void.

At least the ache in his chest had soothed when the feeling gripped him.

Grillby and the other elementals didn't bother talking to each other as they walked, nor did Brigg. There was too much grimness hanging in the air to warrant any conversation. They just shuffled vacantly from place to place. Grillby sometimes wondered if they even knew where they were going. Maybe that was what Asgore had said when they had first begun their flight. Maybe no one had said anything, and they were just blindly following whatever monsters were in the lead of the shambling army. More monsters had made it out than Grillby realized. Some, distant corner of his mind registered that as a good thing, but his soul felt no joy over it.

Grillby didn't know how long they walked. He just knew they walked. He moved when he was told to move. He stopped when he was told to stop. Every night he curled up close to Terros and Ora, clinging to how familiar they were and trying to remember how to sleep. He was exhausted, more mentally than physically. His mind wanted rest - or rather, it wanted a  _stop_. He wanted to just… stop being awake. To stop feeling, to stop being aware. But he found every time he fell asleep, upon waking, for a few seconds, he'd forget why he was sleeping somewhere foreign. He'd forget why Amathea and Gaster weren't nearby him. And then there was a terrible stabbing wrench through his soul when he remembered.

Two mornings of waking up like that and Grillby just… stopped sleeping.

Ora and Terros weren't much better off, honestly. He could feel it in the heaviness in their magic. Whenever they touched, grabbing up Ora in an effort to help her walk, they shared the same all-encompassing feeling of… numb. Of grey. There was a quietness in their thoughts. A futility in their actions. A smoke in their lungs.

Grillby lost track of the days. Four? Five? That they walked before the wind shifted. For the next few days they walked with a soft, muffling shower of ash wafting over them. The haze of smoke wafted in their direction, quieting their nights and days with fog and wood smoke. At night, the orange and red glow competed with the stars for vibrancy. More often than not, the fire glow won. Nervous murmurs when up through the gathered monsters, sideways glances in Grillby's direction that the elemental ignored. Let the fire come for them for all he cared. It didn't matter.

Nothing. Mattered.

Some indiscernible number of days later the wind shifted again, and the ash stopped falling. A sigh of relief was breathed that Grillby didn't share. That evening they arrived in whatever camp Asgore was leading them to. Grillby walked with Ora and Terros to the medical tent so Ora could finally be looked after. It was the first time the two talked since they'd started walking, and even then it was worrying about what would happen to her leg. Neither of them had ever been so badly wounded before. They didn't know how the wound would heal… or if it were even possible to heal her.

The smell inside reminded Grillby of Gaster, and the cold haze around his soul lifted for a moment, long enough for him to feel a rush of miserable emotion and gag on a sob. Both Ora and Terros felt it through his touch, the dramatic shift that rippled through him. The pity Grillby felt back from them was almost nauseating, and he flickered a scowl back at them, trying to shove the feelings away. But... he stayed with them until a doctor found Ora a cot to lie on. It wasn't long before she had a handful of doctors and nurses hovering over her, every one asking the other if they even knew  _how_ to heal an elemental.

Grillby allowed himself to be distantly proud of the fact that Gaster could heal anything… and then sunk back into apathy when he felt his emotions constrict his throat. He'd cried once, and already he was sick of the lingering taste of hopeless stupidity it left in him.

Terros was watching him, Grillby could feel it. Though while they weren't touching he couldn't tell just what the stone elemental was thinking. Not until Terros was moving over to him and quietly ushering for Grillby to follow him out of the tent. Grillby let himself be led away. He… didn't really want to stay anyway. Everything inside was too familiar, in a sick and pitiful sort of way. Last time he was in a place like this… Gaster was fussing over him and Amathea, making sure they were okay.

Grillby was grateful for Terros taking him out of there. By the time Grillby was outside, he was starting to break down again, a flickering and sputtering mess. Bitter emotions teemed in his chest and his ragged breathing barely kept them from breaking through him in tears. His flame jittered in dull reds and bitter purples, miserable. Terros stood with him while he calmed down, saying nothing. Grillby knew it was probably just an act, but the passive calm in Terros' expression helped Grillby re-center himself. Helped him breathe a little smoother.

"Your friend was a doctor, wasn't he?" Terros asked quietly, and Grillby nodded.

The stone elemental watched him for a few more seconds, as if trying to decide what to say next before murmuring, "Word about what happened will travel fast now that we're in camp. That girl you had letters for, you could probably send them to her from here."

Grillby shook his head before finally managing, "I... need to see her in person."

His throat hurt enough to make him cringe when he spoke, and his voice sounded weak.

"You should talk to your…" Terros paused awkwardly, on the verge of saying  _escort_  before remembering Grillby had none, "... uh… the… unit you were in. If that commander is still alive. Or maybe Asgore. He said he'd help."

Grillby nodded. Right. He should do that. He sighed. Oh gods above he felt so lost. Terros put a reassuring hand on Grillby's shoulder. The touch didn't send him much in the way of comfort. Terros was still a little too wretched in his own way for something like that to be genuine. But he tried nonetheless, and Grillby tried to feel grateful for it.

"Stay strong, little brother," he said quietly. He looked like he might be on the verge of saying more, but Ora's muffled voice shouted for him then, panicked about something. Terros turned and jogged back inside, eager to help her. Grillby watched the space he'd been standing for a few minutes, blinking dumbly, not wanting to move. Not wanting to do much of anything.

_Your unit commander._

Right… Brigg… he should… he should go look for Brigg. The elemental heaved another heavy sigh, hissing smoke into the air before finally convincing himself to turn and walk away. It took an effort to stay on task, to concentrate and remember what he was doing and why he was doing it. That cold, apathetic fog was descending back over him again and it made it hard to think. It… made it hard to do much of anything really.  _But this is important._  He repeated that to himself.  _Finding Thetis is important_. So he kept walking.

Brigg was going about the difficult task of taking count of the monsters left in his unit, and making sure they all had somewhere to sleep for the night. His unit had been one of the ones on the front lines so… the numbers left were dismal. The dragon looked much older than he had before the battle, and tired. He seemed to regain a small spark of enthusiasm when Grillby approached him though, if for no other reason than because the elemental was someone familiar. Grillby stopped in front of him, flickering tiredly, trying to figure out what to say. What was he even going to ask for? To leave?

Finally he settled on, "I need to see Thetis."

Brigg huffed a short, derisive sort of laugh, smoke trickling through his nostrils, "You need a hell of a lot more than just her."

There was humor in his voice, Grillby could hear it. But he felt none back. Well… maybe some buried, extremely mild appreciation came to life beneath the fog in his head. Followed quickly by guilt. Brigg shouldn't be happy to see him. He should be  _angry_. Calling him out on his failure. But whatever Brigg was feeling, it wasn't that. He could see it in the way the dragon's expression softened just slightly when Grillby didn't laugh back.

"Thetis is probably already on her way here," Brigg said with a sigh, "Her and anyone else handling intelligence will need to know what happened here and come up with a new strategy for the King."

Grillby nodded quietly.

"Give them a few days," Brigg said, "If nothing else, any ghosts that come in will be able to tell you if she's moved camps or not."

Grillby nodded again, not really knowing what else to say other than a quiet and hoarse, "Thanks."

Brigg studied him for a long moment, "You ever been through something like this before?"

The elemental blinked at him questioningly.

"Ever lost someone you were close to?"

Grillby felt his throat get tight again, emotions fighting to spill out of him.

"No," he said, struggling past the rough pain in his throat. His voice was a lot shakier than he'd wanted it to be. Well… that was just one more thing to add to the long list of things Grillby should be able to control but couldn't. Brigg caught him up in a pitiful look.

"You'll get through this," Brigg promised him quietly, "It'll hurt like hell first. But you'll get through it."

He paused and then continued, "Keep yourself busy. It'll help."

Grillby nodded, thanked him again and let the dragon direct him with what was left of his troops to someplace to settle for the night. So many of the familiar faces amongst them were gone. Grillby… had never known any of them that well. But some corner of his soul still felt saddened that they were so few now. That night the ragged group pooled together what little foodstuffs they had, borrowing a little from other portions of the camp as well, and Grillby cooked them something edible and warm with it. These monsters deserved what little comfort they could be given, and Grillby needed something to do. He ate a little. He… wasn't really hungry. But it filled the time, gave him something dull and lifeless to focus his mind on. It was a familiar, mechanical motion, and that was somehow helpful.  _Numbing_ , in a way.

Grillby curled up under a tree that night, flame flickering low, watching the embers of the campfire die. Somehow, it lulled him to sleep, and he slept dreamlessly. Exhaustedly. Never truly realizing just how spent he was until he woke up the next morning and realized he hadn't moved an inch. Honestly… Grillby might not have woken up at all. His soul was empty enough for it. He could have just gone to sleep and… fallen down… right there...

But a small, persistent pin-prick of pain nagged him into wakefulness before he could sink too far. He'd fallen asleep with his hands clasped close to his chest, and at some point during the night he'd wrapped his fingers around his necklace. He'd… forgotten all about that little piece of ice magic he was wearing. Now he awoke with it stinging him, pestering away a single HP at a time until it had finally jolted him awake.

Slowly, wincingly, Grilly sat up. Aches and pains were waking up all around his body, as if the piece of ice magic had snapped them into life. His chest hurt. Not just his soul, but his actual core. It took a bit of shuffling around his armor, but he did finally find the source. The hit the second mage had scored into his chest had left a wound, and the core there was cooled, hard and black against the dim reds and oranges of the rest of his body. Then there were his hands. The gauntlet on one hand was caked in blood - Grillby stared at it for several long minutes, feeling sick when he remembered whose it was. His hand was only barely molten there, his fingers stiff and sore from where Amathea's blood had put out the flame. His other hand was worse, aching and cooled from the grasp he'd had on the ice magic all night. He was… still covered in dust. And blood. And leaked magic and sand.

Death. He was covered in death.

How had he… not… noticed? How had he not noticed  _his own wounds?_  Or how  _disgusting_ he was? He'd been… too tired. Too… foggy… too  _gone_  to realize it. Mixing feelings of repulsion, nausea and guilt flipped around in Grillby's stomach. He wanted it off of him. He wanted it off of him  _now_. And he was immediately hit by the  _wrongness_ of that feeling and it made him start to panic. This was what was left of Amathea. It was  _her_. What was he supposed to do? Shake it off like it was dirt? Throw it away? Wash it off like she'd never been a  _monster?_ He didn't… he… he didn't know what to do.

A shadow passed over him, and in his tired and bleary half-panic Grillby startled at it. It took  _much_ longer than it should have to realize the monster standing over him was Brigg. The dragon monster was watching him with a look of mild, almost patient annoyance, like he was staring down at a child.

"You alright?"

"I don't -" Grillby sparked, not really knowing what in the world he was supposed to  _ask_ or  _say_. And his throat still  _hurt_ , just another problem to add to the growing list, " - what do I do about  _this?_ "

Brigg flashed him a frown pointing with a thumb over his shoulder, "Wash off? There's a river."

"But it's -"

"For heaven's sakes, boy, whoever it is, I doubt they'd  _care,"_ Brigg snorted a confused laugh, as if he couldn't believe Grillby was being so ridiculous. Honestly, Grillby wanted to be angry at him, but he was a bit too frustrated with himself to care about whatever Brigg was thinking. Grillby scrambled to his feet and dashed off in the direction Brigg was pointing, just desperate to  _get away_.

The dragon watched him go, stammering, "Wait a minute! Elemental! You can't just -"

Grillby was already out of sight and out of earshot. His panic was starting to die off, slowly being replaced by a churning feeling of bitterness and embarrassment. He felt  _ridiculous_. And  _confused_. And guilty. Everything he was feeling and doing felt awkward and wrong and… felt even more so when he slid to a halt on the pebbles of the riverbank. He was so  _stupid_. He couldn't wash his own clothes! Just putting his hands in the water would put his fire out. And from how hurt they were already…

Grillby stamped a foot on the ground and let out a long, frustrated growl of a shout - and immediately regretted it. His throat hurt. It hurt  _a lot_  and he couldn't really figure out why. But it was just another, useless, pricking frustration to add to the growing exasperation of the morning. He hadn't even been awake an hour and already he was done with all of this. He shouldn't have woken up in the first place.

Grillby sighed out a tense breath, scowling at himself when it shuddered. No.  _No_. He was  _not_  adding  _crying_ to the  _excessively long list_ of stupidity this morning. But… he… didn't want to go back to camp either. What was he going to do? Ask some random stranger to help him wash his own clothes? Gaster had always helped him before. His blue was handy for that sort of thing.

Grillby growled out another sigh, gulping painfully when it hurt him, reaching up a hand to rub at his throat self-consciously. His nervous frustration abated back, turning into cold disappointment. He just… didn't know what to do. He felt so  _lost_. And he… didn't have the courage to go back to camp yet.

So Grillby started pacing. It was something to do. A mechanical motion. Numbing. And there was just enough noise to keep him from thinking. He could focus on the crackling of the stones beneath his feet. The sound of the water. The wind. There was an instinctive nervousness inside him, being this close to something so spiteful towards him. If he tripped and fell on something, everything about this place would sting him. But he didn't really  _care_ enough to worry about it. He walked, pacing slowly back and forth until Brigg eventually stopped him. He… didn't know how long it was before that happened. It felt like... it'd been a while.

Brigg flashed him a humorless smile, "Didn't get very far did you?"

Grillby flared his arms uselessly in an exasperated sort of shrug, wincing when the movement hurt his chest. Brigg snorted a breath of smoke and tossed him a pair of gloves. They were made of leather and long enough to reach up to the elemental's elbows. They honestly looked like the kind a blacksmith would wear, rough and thick and made to keep out heat - not exactly the kind of gloves that were useful in keeping water out. But they shimmered faintly with magic - some quickly thrown together waterproofing spell.

"Figured you might want those," Brigg said past another breath of smoke.

Grillby nodded, muttering a quiet, "Thanks."

Awkwardly, Grillby started unstrapping his armor, wincing just a bit with every move he made. It was looking more and more like he should be seeing a doctor… an idea that sent a bitter twist through his soul. He shoved the thought away for now, focusing only on dragging off his tunic and stepping into the water without falling over. His boots were pretty worn, but they could still keep his feet dry.

There he paused, his insides suddenly squirming, holding his tunic and staring at the water. Oh… gods. He didn't know what made him more nervous - the fact that he was standing in a river, or the fact that he was about to wash this nightmare off his clothes. It still felt… so wrong. But this was what he was supposed to be doing, right?

Behind him, Brigg gave an annoyed huff. The dragon prowled to his side, snatching the fabric out of his hand and settling in to wash it himself. At first Grillby flickered in surprise, and then his colors turned slowly into indignant, angry oranges and reds. Before he could so much as give a spark in protest, Brigg was cutting him off.

"Just get to work on your armor," he grumbled, "You probably don't know how to wash this stuff properly anyway."

Grillby sighed bitterly, letting his anger abate just a little. Brigg meant well he guessed, even if he was a bit… harsh. Grillby grabbed up a large stone from the water - wincing just a little when the cold wrapped around his arm, but the gloves kept him dry - and set to slowly polishing out the magic and blood that had seeped onto the links of his chainmail. The river ran murky from both Grillby and Brigg's work, along with the silt they stirred up every time they moved. Grillby felt uncomfortable and nauseous, his throat tight, but he couldn't tell if it was from the water or… everything else.

Silence passed between them for several minutes while the two worked. Every once in a while Grillby would glance over at Brigg to see what the dragon was doing - obviously Grillby was going to have to learn how to do this stuff on his own now…

Really there didn't seem to be much to washing clothes. Brigg just sat and scrubbed the same few places with a stone, sometimes wringing the cloth out and checking to see if any of the spots had gotten lighter.

At length the dragon monster scowled and barked, "What did you do,  _roll_ in this stuff?"

Grillby's own washing paused, his movements dying off slowly. He wanted to keep his mind blank but… it was starting to turn back to Amathea. He didn't want to see that again. He didn't want the image of her stuck in his head. Whatever fog he'd sunk into over the last week or so had kept them trapped and out of sight.

"It's  _everywhere_."

"I was… holding her," Grillby murmured, "When she died."

Beside him, Brigg grew still as well, and to Grillby it was damning. His chest was getting tight again, tired despair worming up through his insides towards his throat, pooling in a pressure behind his eyes. He growled out a sigh, hoping it would relieve some of the tension. Well, he succeeded in making his throat hurt worse. There was that.

"Amathea was a good monster," Brigg said quietly, "She knew what she was doing."

"No she didn't," Grillby said with a miserable laugh, "She should have run away. She should have left me, and Gaster shouldn't have even been there! I'm an  _elemental,_ Brigg. No one is supposed to die because of me."

A pause passed between them before Brigg finally sighed a sad sort of humor wilting into his voice, "Well, she did say she was Amathea the  _Brave_. Not the  _Wise_."

Grillby gave a miserable flicker.

"Listen boy," Brigg huffed, his voice startlingly firm, smoke curling past his teeth, "It's a terrible thing to be the one left behind. But right now you've got a decision to make."

Grillby blinked at him, and he continued, "You can either flicker out and die and join them, or you can pick up where they left off."

Brigg straightened then, and Grillby mirrored the motion. Brigg looked intimidating, towering over Grillby with his hands on his sides as if he were glaring down at a child.

There was a stubborn sort of intent radiating off of him as he spoke again, "Your soul is in a dangerous place right now, elemental. You're weak and hopeless and you're giving up. And I can't blame you. But understand as your  _commander_ I have a purpose just like you elementals do - it's my job to keep you alive. Just like it was  _Amathea's_ job to keep you alive, among other things."

The severity dropped out of his voice a bit and he grumbled, "You have wounds that need treated, you need to eat, you need to  _sleep_. Or you're going to let everything your friends died for turn to dust."

Grillby nodded slowly, at least trying to show Brigg he understood even if he… didn't really know how to feel. He still felt  _miserable_. And now he was feeling  _guilty_. If Brigg was trying to be encouraging it wasn't really working. At any rate, Brigg seemed to be done with whatever rant he'd started on. He passed Grillby back his wet clothes and made to leave, ambling off with a final, well-meaning threat.

"If you're not at the medical tents in an hour I'm dragging you there myself."

Grillby watched him go, not sure whether he should feel appreciative or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry... ahhhh...
> 
> Writing grieving characters makes me feel uncomfortable and awkward, mostly because I've been both the grieving and the comforting and every time I have no idea what to do. And as someone who loses hope often, intentionally being in this head space is pretty bad for me. So sorry in advance if some of these chapters seem awkward or over dramatized or erratic or anything else. I'm trying my best :')
> 
> That being said, I'll probably be filling in the blanks with fluff for my sanity. Be prepared for random one-shots, either CR related or otherwise.
> 
> ..................................................
> 
> And now uh... something completely unrelated - to those of you who, like me, are living in the US during all this craziness - stay safe. I don't care who you voted for or why. But regardless, I'm already hearing about a lot of protesting and rioting and violence, and even potential suicides because of the outcome.
> 
> Please _please_ don't do anything you're going to regret later. _**Please**_ surround yourself with people who make you feel safe and loved. And if nothing else know this author, on their little corner of the internet, is really glad you exist. So you should try to keep doing that existing thing.


	50. Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thetis is finally confronted  
> And a vigil is kept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another fanart feature this week. :'D You guys. I don't understand what I did to deserve you all really. You're beyond supportive. And the thought of one person making anything for this silly story blows me away, let alone the amount of content and the quality of content made. Like I know you guys are probably tired of hearing me babble on about this by now but in all seriousness, I can't thank you enough.
> 
> That being said! Here's the features for this week!
> 
> [Loumun-Versen is back again, and this time easing the pain in our souls a bit with a scene from _several_ chapters ago](http://loumun-versen.deviantart.com/art/UT-Through-Rainbow-s-Colors-645101244) when Grillby sang "The Parting Glass". Seriously the way they did his multiple-colored-weirdness is fantastic. The colors all blend together so beautifully ahhhhh......
> 
> Next up [Kakurosu on DA has returned with more awesome colored pencil work](http://kakurosu.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-Ch-49-tribute-645179736?q=the3Ss%2F70223120&qo=0)! They drew Grillby by the river from last chapter :'D ahhhh my heart
> 
> The final two are from procrastingbookworm on Tumblr, with some colored pencil doodles! The first one is [a drawing of the Grillby-sets-the-world-on-fire scene](http://procrastinatingbookworm.tumblr.com/post/153250013952/finished-casting-rain-chapter-48) ahaha. I give you major kudos on trying to draw that my friend! I have like... no idea how that can even be accomplished.  
> The second involves [the letters, and a poem about loss that's really prettyyyy.](http://procrastinatingbookworm.tumblr.com/post/153249175957/mary-elizabeth-frye-more-fanart-for-casting) I actually ran into that one while researching for this chapter! Which is awesome and coincidental.

Grillby spent the rest of the evening sitting on the ground beside Ora’s cot, waiting for doctors to decide how best to heal him. _One_ elemental sitting in their sick bay had been surprise enough, having a second one around was making monsters nervous. Grillby could feel it in the air, in the subtle glances that were cast in his direction. He heard it in bits and pieces of conversation, though he remained silent and still enough that they often forgot he was listening.

Most of them had never seen an elemental wounded before, let alone _two_. Was that something that could always happen, or were the humans getting stronger and figuring out their weaknesses? If the only real weapon they had wasn’t working, what would? The whole world was looking grim. Maybe they should think about giving up? Surely if an entire race begged for mercy, the humans couldn’t kill them all.

Right?

It was around then that Grillby stopped listening, choosing instead to close his eyes and focus on at the very least _pretending_ to sleep. Even if he couldn’t. Even if just sitting in this place made his soul ache and his chest hurt and his throat tighten with emotions he wished he wasn’t feeling. He just wanted the doctors to hurry, to fix whatever was broken in him so he could leave and hide away somewhere until his soul stopped hurting. But he wasn’t a priority. There were monsters in here much worse off than Grillby was, so the elemental was left waiting. And Ora didn’t bother to disturb him. She was just as lost as he was.

Though she _was_ looking better, and Grillby thought that was good, even if he couldn’t rightly feel it. Her leg had been healed a bit, the cracks in the stone closing together and growing back - a process Gaster probably would’ve found fascinating if he were actually alive to watch it work. But she wasn’t healed completely. Some doctor had probably sat down, thinking they could fix the simple wound in a single setting, and ran their magic out to exhaustion as a result. The doctors in here weren’t prepared for just how much magic elementals had stowed inside of them - and for how much magic it took to fix them when they were broken and empty.

Gaster would’ve known. Gaster would have monsters working together to get both Grillby and Ora patched up quickly, healing what was needed and letting food and rest heal what was left over. Amathea would probably be the first to offer the magic they’d need for something like that, telling rousing stories to anyone else standing nearby, keeping spirits lit and hope thriving.

Gaster and Amathea weren’t here.

A dismal feeling of hopelessness crawled through him like a shudder.

Grillby must have fallen asleep at some point, because he was awoken later by Brigg and some doctor shaking him, and Brigg _ordering_ him to get up and walk around. To get some food while the doctor checked his stats. All things Grillby did with small amounts of confusion writhing in his chest. He’d been sleeping, hadn’t he? Wasn’t it Brigg who said Grillby needed to get some sleep? Ora looked upset when he left, _scared_ really, but Grillby got the distinct feeling it wasn’t because he was leaving.

Grillby’s soul hurt. _Heavens_ it felt like something was just gnawing away at it, some tiny creature clawing itself a burrow to stay in. And he felt tired, more tired than he’d ever felt before in his entire life.

Brigg wasn’t leaving Grillby alone now though, and the elemental was starting to get annoyed with it. That night he demanded the elemental take some patrol instead of sleeping. He insisted Grillby snap up some fires here and there as he went about camp. For the next few days Grillby was given chores to do - mindless, mundane tasks that hardly kept him busy. He was put on hunting trips he could barely help with. Asked to cook meals for half the camp. It was annoying, and all Grillby really wanted to do was… nothing. Sleep was about as close as he could get to that sort of comfort, and even then Brigg was always waking him before he could sleep for more than a few hours at once.

The dragon monster commanded him with a look of irritable urgency, and clipped off any of Grillby’s half-hearted protests with a simple and stern, “You need to keep busy.”

So Grillby did for days he didn’t care to keep track of. It could have just been one or two, or maybe it was a week. Time had stopped having too much meaning to him now. Everything was just blurring together, a tired and grey streak in his foggy memory. Honestly he didn’t really care. He felt like he was just biding his time anyway. Waiting for… something… to happen. Waiting for a stop.

Sometimes Terros would confront him, and every time they talked the stone elemental seemed that much more bitter and angry. He would rant about some weakness he saw in Grillby’s soul, about how he was _better than this_ \- whatever _this_ was. Very little of it managed to get a rise out of Grillby, and when it did the feelings of anger or bitter that Grillby _should_ feel were always muted and withdrawn. He didn’t really… care enough… to get angry. Besides, Terros never sounded particularly _cruel_ , nor were the small bits of magic that Grillby felt radiating off of him. Oddly enough, he always noticed more exasperation and worry than anything else.

Of course, in some weird stretch of logic, Terros always either started or ended their talks by asking if Grillby was okay - a question Grillby didn’t really have the presence of mind to answer.

The haze around Grillby didn’t lift again until whatever day it was that he finally… spoke to Thetis. He hadn’t been expecting it. Honestly some part of him had forgotten that was something that needed to happen. Grillby had just gotten back from a patrol. He was _tired_ , but he was starting to think that was all he’d ever be. Tired and sick apparently, since Brigg kept mothering him like some frail and dying child.

And Thetis was just… there. Standing and talking to some ghost she’d walked into camp with, bright and smiling and looking so terribly like Amathea that for a heartbeat Grillby almost thought it _was_ her, and he stopped dead in his tracks. The illusion was just brief enough for that haze across Grillby’s soul to lift, to be swept away by the tide of emotions that had been hiding under the surface of his numbed feelings and exhaustion for so long. Grillby’s whole body felt a shot of panic like scattered lightning, his sluggish thoughts leapt into motion.

What did he do? What did he _say?_ When had she _gotten here_ and why had nobody _warned him?!_ He wasn’t ready for this. He couldn’t talk to her he couldn’t - he… oh gods. Oh no. No no no _no no!_

 _Of course_ she saw him. He was hard to miss, standing there and flickering in a storm of panicking colors, his heat lighting up the frigid air as if some patch of summer had suddenly lit up where he was standing. Thetis grinned at him and ran over, chattering some happy and snarky comment that Grillby was too busy freaking out to hear. She hugged him, and some mechanical part of him remembered to hug her back.

“ - was a real mess finding this place!” Grillby blinked dumbly, finally managing to listen to the whirlwind of things Thetis was rattling off, “We’ve got armies scattered halfway to hell and back, and they’ve got this one pretty well hidden, _obviously._ Can’t have the humans finding out which direction Asgore went. Not that I don’t think you and the other elementals running around here couldn’t handle the action. It’s just not best to test our luck right now, you know?”

Thetis sighed and put her hands on her sides, tilting her head to the side somewhat questioningly, “Hey, where’s your shadow at?”

“M-my… shadow...?” Grillby stammered.

“Aye, yeah, Gaster?” Thetis laughed, “Doesn’t he follow you around everywhere? Or well… I’ll bet they probably have him working on healing people don’t they?”

Oh… _gods_. It was an act of will just for Grillby to shake his head, and to speak after.

“Gaster is… gone… Thetis.”

Grillby watched the smile sink off her face, and was suddenly aware of how much his throat was hurting again. He took a breath to keep speaking, and the hitch in his chest stopped him. He didn’t want to cry. Not right now. He… he just needed to speak for _two sentences_.

“What about Ammy?” Thetis asked quietly. The tone in her voice said she already knew the answer, but she watched him anyway, her shining yellow eyes _desperate_ for the good news she knew she wasn’t getting. Grillby didn’t know when he’d started fidgeting but he was. He realized it when he was halfway through running one of his hands through the flames on his head as if the motion could somehow make this easier. He wanted to pace. No. He wanted to _run_. He didn’t want to be here he just… he was _scared_. He was so scared.

All he could think to say was, “I’m… sorry.”

Thetis sighed out the expectant breath she was holding, everything about her crumbling into something smaller. She paused, looking very much like she might start crying. But before she could crumble completely she stopped and looked back up at Grillby again.

“You wouldn’t... happen to have a letter from her would you?”

Grillby nodded miserably and with shaking hands rifled through his inventory. He pulled out the three little letters, sealed neatly with wax and untouched since Grillby had stowed them away. He passed them off to Thetis and the monster held them limply in her hands, staring at them with a growing look of sorrow. She grit her teeth and huffed out a breath - and then with an angry hiss she screamed, “ _Damn it!_ ”

Grillby jumped at the suddenness of it, and then flinched when Thetis crumpled the letters in her hand. She hefted her arm back as if she was going to throw them, grimacing and shaking and then bringing them back in close again to stare down at the wrinkled paper and broken wax.

“Damn it,” she said again, but this time her voice was softer and shivering, “She wasn’t supposed to leave me alone like this. She wasn’t…!”

Thetis grit her teeth and wiped at her eyes furiously, muttering, “I can’t… I can’t do this right now. I have to meet the King.”

She paused long enough to shuffle the now crumpled letters into her inventory and stop her breaths from shaking before saying, “I’ll… I’ll come find you later. Where… what unit are you with now?”

“I’m still with Brigg,” Grillby murmured, “We’re on the south side of camp.”

Grillby motioned in the general direction they were at, and Thetis nodded.

“Thanks for getting the letters to me,” she whispered, and then bound away, back towards the ghost companion of hers that had apparently been watching from afar, looking nothing short of confused. When they spoke to Thetis she made a show of laughing whatever they’d asked off, shrugging their concern off her shoulders as if it were nothing more than the autumn chill. For a few seconds their entire encounter could have never happened. Well… she was a stronger monster than Grillby was, at least. Or perhaps, she knew she still had a job to do, in spite of everything.

 

* * *

 

Grillby didn’t see Thetis again until that evening, when most of the monsters in his unit were asleep and Grillby was left awake watching the fire burn itself out. She arrived like she normally did, seeming to materialize out of thin air, wrapped in the smell of intent and magic. Thetis slumped to the ground beside him, sharing the tree he was leaning against, and she let out a heavy sigh as she did. For a while she didn’t say anything, and Grillby had nothing to say back. They just… sat… and shared each other’s mournful company.

Finally Thetis spoke, “Do you… know what happened?”

The elemental nodded quietly.

“Do you mind telling me?"

Grillby sighed out a breath of smoke. He… figured she would ask eventually. Now he prayed he could make it through telling the story without melting down into some kind of sniveling mess. So he talked. He talked slowly and haltingly, crawling through everything he could remember. As he talked he started to realize how many small, stupid, _simple_ things stood out brightly in his memory. The feel of the cracks in the wall behind his back. The smell of magic. The taste of dust. The vivid teal in Amathea’s spears. The bright untouchable white of the mage’s staff. How _cold_ blood felt when it ran across his hands.

Of course, these things he didn’t share with Thetis. He had no reason to. And to be honest, he didn’t think he could even if she asked. They were a little too close to his soul. They made the memory a little too vivid and real.

At length, Grillby’s talking returned to silence, and Thetis sighed beside him.

“Sounds like Ammy,” she said, smiling regretfully, “Gods _damn it_ … it sounds _just_ like her. Dusted saving someone.”

Thetis flashed Grillby a sideways glance, “I doubt she would’ve had it any differently, honestly.”

“She should have left me,” Grillby retorted, scowling.

“Why?”

The elemental flickered a frown at her, “Why?”

Thetis watched him, mouth set in a hard line, her eyes bright and severe, “Why in _heaven’s name_ should she have _left you?_ ”

Grillby sparked in surprise, taken aback, stammering, “Because… Because I’m -”

“An elemental?” Thetis cut him off, her voice somehow quiet and angry all at once, “What’s that got to do with it?”

Grillby flickered a flustered spark.

“You think your life is worth any less than any monster sitting around here?” Thetis asked sharply, a bite in her words as she spoke, “You think my sister _wasted_ her life fighting for you?”

“N-no I…!” Grillby stuttered, distraught and overwhelmed by just how _angry_ Thetis had become, “It’s just… it wasn’t supposed to _be_ like this. They summoned me to keep this from happening!”

Grillby grasped his head in his hands, “I was so _useless_ , Thetis. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t…! I was still… _too late_. I tried to save both of them and in the end it counted for _nothing!”_

 _Heaven’s alive_ his throat was hurting again, so much it cracked once or twice when he spoke. And now he couldn’t tell if it was just because he was emotional or if something was _wrong_ with him. Grillby’s chest felt tight, like he should be panicking but he _knew_ he wasn’t, and his soul hurt. It _always_ hurt. But now he was suddenly hyper aware of it. Like it was the most important thing in the world.

“They were my _entire world_ ,”  Grillby finally said shakily, “M-my purpose. My life after this war is over.”

He looked up at her, pathetic a small, “I have nothing left.”

Thankfully, Thetis’ anger abated, though there was still a sharpness in her glance that left Grillby feeling nervous. She leaned back against the tree behind her, gaze tracing up to the mostly-barren branches above her head.

“You and me both,” she said dismally, and then sighed, “There’s no sense beating yourself up over it Grillby. Nothing can be done about it now.”

The tired resignation in Thetis’ voice sent a chill through Grillby’s soul. She looked… so much older… than she had a few hours ago. Like the weight of the entire world had somehow wrapped itself around her shoulders. Smothering her. Fading away the color in her scales. She looked _exhausted_ , as exhausted as Grillby felt. He was probably a horrible person for it but… Grillby felt… better… knowing she felt the same way. Knowing someone was just as lost as he was. She’d lost just as much as he had. Thetis had seen every one of her siblings come and go because of this terrible war. She was alone. Just like Grillby.

“I’m… sorry,” Grillby said, and Thetis blinked at him, an incredulous sort of half-smile on her face.

“What the hell for?”

“... I don’t know,” Grillby flickered quietly, “Everything.”

“There’s nothing else you could’ve done.” Thetis said with a flinch of a shrug, “There’s no use feeling sorry for it.”

Silence settled between them again, heavy and dark and grey. Grillby cast his gaze back towards the fire, watching the embers burn lower. Letting it lull him into a state of nothing and quiet. That was when the air started ringing, humming to life with the tingling of subtle magic weaving to life. Thetis was singing.

“Sleep my child and peace attend thee,

All through the night

Guarding spirits I will send thee,

All through the night

Soft the drowsy hours are creeping

Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,

I my lonely vigil keeping

All through the night…”

Thetis sighed, curling up further against the tree as if she could lull herself to sleep like that. Despite the shimmering in the air her voice created, Grillby could feel himself being lulled as well. Her voice was so quiet. It lacked the suffocating, entrancing grip that Amathea’s always had. Instead it simply hung and shimmered, writing each verse in the air, the breath of the world sighing with every breath Thetis took.

“While the moon her watch is keeping

All through the night

While the weary world is sleeping

All through the night

O'er thy spirit gently stealing

Visions of our plight it’s healing

Breathes a soft and mourning feeling

All through the night.”

In his falling, half-asleep daze Grillby noticed Thetis was watching something, her eyes gracing across the coals of the fire that were now barely lit, their dull red glow hardly illuminating the night air. He could swear he saw something moving as she spoke, some conjured illusion of hers weakly fluttering to life. Smiling. Dancing. Flashing in glimpses of magic that sometimes flickered out when Thetis’s voice rasped or caught in her throat.

“Love, to thee my thoughts are turning

All through the night

All for thee my heart is yearning,

All through the night.

Though sad fate our lives it severed

Parting will not last forever,

There's a hope that leaves me never,

All through the night…”

The illusion flickered out, nothing more than a dying silhouette haloed against the red and amber of the embers. Grillby could swear for a second it looked like Amathea. He had enough time to wonder before he fell asleep if Thetis had meant to do that, to conjure up something that must hurt her soul to see. Or if maybe her voice was as wild as Amathea’s had been, directionless and indiscriminate in what it did or why.

Grillby fell asleep to Thetis humming the last verse of the song over and over again, her magic putting a warm stillness in his soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On to my notes for this week!
> 
> So first off, we've made it to 50 chapters what the hell.
> 
> Secondly, I forgot to tell you guys at the time, but Chapter 49 officially starts Act/Book 3 of Casting Rain? The last arc. The last hurrah! There's a lot that happens though. I'd like to tell you all a timetable of how much exactly is left, but since I don't even have the events of the next 2-3 chapters scripted yet... I can't do that. I need to more thoroughly plan the next few chapters honestly. I have a jumble of things that need to happen, another jumble of things I'd like to happen, and no idea what should happen when or where. It's mostly one specific event that I haven't placed on my timeline yet, and it's a decently pivotal plot point so it will decide where everything else falls.
> 
> But I also have a lot of big projects for university coming up this week so... uh... we'll see how well that planning goes. It might not happen, which will be unfortunate.
> 
> So on to Thetis's song! Honestly I was [this] close to either scrapping the scene with her singing or attempting to write my own song, because let me tell you I spent upwards of 5-6 hours researching music, specifically laments and lullabies, and could not find anything I thought fit. I actually found this one this morning, and I'm glad! I ended up editing a couple of the lyrics around so it could function as both a lullaby and also the kind of pseudo-lament I was looking for, so you'll have to excuse me for that!
> 
> The song is called "All Through the Night" (or Ar Hyde y Nos) and is a Welsh lullaby first published in the 1700s. I'm not sure if it was passed around by word-of-mouth before then, or if it's first incarnation was the original publication. It deviates from the normal Celtic music I generally give the sisters, which makes me sorta sad, but gosh darn if it didn't fit the best out of everything else I found.
> 
> The runner-up lyric was a Norse poem involving valkyries and Valhalla, which was fantastic, but the major turn-off I had to that one was how it mentioned specific items in mythology. I like keeping this story intentionally vague? So you can kind of place the characters wherever you'd like. I mean, it's pretty thoroughly based off the European regions, yes, but I like giving you guys (and myself) wiggle room as to what specific cultures exist in this weirdness.


	51. Upon My Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is some tension  
> And there is some news  
> And everyone is scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh there's another fanart feature this week. You guys are spoiling me. Honestly. Hnnnnngh.   
> Thank you for being such beautiful people.
> 
> First up! Is a coolios sketch by [3-2-1-gone on Tumblr of a mage being all evil and cool.](http://theblogofcastingrain.tumblr.com/post/153592124012/321gone-i-tried-to-do-a-fanart-this-is-my) Ahaha and is basically the embodiment of any mage I decide not to describe in-story.
> 
> Next up is another from [ procrastinatingbookworm, this time a watercolor sketch from chapter 48. ](http://theblogofcastingrain.tumblr.com/post/153592184727/procrastinatingbookworm-chapter-48-wildfire) I really like the way the colors blend :3
> 
> Kakurosu strikes again, [ with an epic colored-pencil drawing of last chapter when Thetis was singing](http://kakurosu.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-Mourning-646497228). Ahhh my heart! It's both really sad and really pretty.
> 
> And last but certainly not least! Flyingshadow451 came in with a kick to the feels by [doing an epic thing of Amathea fighting the last mage.](http://flyingshadow451.deviantart.com/art/Amanthea-The-Brave-646205028) Like words cannot describe. Ffffffffffffffffffffff.
> 
> //sinks into the void, screaming the quiet praises of all those who have done these things//  
> I don't deserve your love all I have to return it with is pain

When Grillby awoke the next morning, it took him a while to realize he’d actually been allowed to sleep through the night. Or… _most_ of the night at least. It was still dark when he stirred, the cold dawn just barely beginning to warm the horizon. There was a sting on his neck that pricked at him every so often - he’d jostled around his necklace in his sleep again. The thought floated through his sleepy mind that maybe he should start taking it off before he went to sleep at night, but he shrugged it tiredly away. It didn’t worry him too much. Not right now anyway.

He was a bit surprised though when he realized Thetis was still sitting beside him, looking tired and distant. Grillby blinked at her, drowsy and confused. It looked like she hadn’t slept all night. When he stirred, she turned to glance at him, flashing him a wan smile.

“G’morning.”

“Good morning,” Grillby murmured back, gulping against the tired hoarseness in his voice, “Didn’t you sleep?”

Thetis shook her head, “No.”

She sighed tiredly, rubbing away some of the tiredness in her eyes, “Back home we’ve got countless tales of different beasties that like to make off with what’s left of your soul in the night after you pass, so we like to keep a watch after a death.”

Thetis shrugged, “I know they’ve been gone for a while but… if their souls still need watching...”

Thetis rubbed her face tiredly, “... I dunno. Made sense to try at least.”

Grillby flickered a frown, “Why didn’t you say something? I could’ve stayed up with you.”

To this, Thetis laughed, flashing Grillby a slightly-more-genuine smile, “I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of sleepless nights already. Gotta admit, you scared me for a few minutes though.”

Grillby flickered a confused spark.

“You burn so low in your sleep,” Thetis sighed, “Thought for a minute you might be falling down. Told myself if you got any dimmer I’d try and wake you up.”

Something squirmed in Grillby’s soul, some half-lucid thought finally dragging itself into the light where the elemental could grasp at it. Maybe that was why... Terros thought his soul was too weak. Why Brigg wouldn’t let him sleep for very long. Why Ora had been so scared for him that night in the medical tents.

Was he… really that close… to falling…? Did he even care that he was…? _Should_ he? Well, even if Grillby didn’t know if he cared, everyone else seemed to. That… had to count for something. Besides he… couldn’t really fulfill his purpose if he were dead. That was something else he should probably be thinking of now, wasn’t it? His _original_ purpose. The only reason he was even here to begin with. The only thing he had left.

Grillby blinked down at his hands, frowning.

It felt like… he had woken up… for the first time in weeks. He still felt exhausted. His soul still hurt. His mind was fuzzy.

But he was just a bit more lucid than he remembered being before.

Thetis moved, pointing a folded piece of paper at him, “This is for you.”

Grillby took it hesitantly, unfolding the crumpled page and blinking down uncomprehendingly at the words written across it. He could tell by the long, trailing scrawl that it was Amathea’s handwriting, and his soul gave a small lurch in his chest. What…?

“She wrote one for you,” Thetis explained, sighing, “I didn’t read it, I swear. I just… didn’t realize it was yours.”

She smirked, “Wrote one for Gaster too. She really cared about you two, you know.”

Grillby felt everything about his flame still, the cool and quiet reds reflecting dulled light across the page. Something in his soul gave a tug, regret and longing mingling together miserably. But also… fondly. This was something Amathea had reserved for her family. A tradition set aside just for them. It meant a lot to have her write a letter for him… even if the reasons for him having it were bitter and grim. But… there was one problem.

“I… can’t read,” Grillby admitted with a sigh and a tired flicker.

Thetis blinked at him, surprised for a few seconds, before her face wilted into a resigned smile, “That’s probably not something anyone thought to teach you, huh?”

Grillby shook his head.

“Well…” Thetis yawned, “I guess if you want I could read it to you. Or… well the winter months are just about on us. All this fighting will be brought to a standstill - ‘specially since the humans can’t make it past the wall -”

Grillby gave a small, questioning flicker - _what_ _wall?_

“ - assuming the King doesn’t have me running halfway across the country, I could teach you a few things,” Thetis pulled herself slowly to her feet and stretched, and then offered a hand to Grillby to pull him to his feet as well. The elemental let her, flickering gratefully.

“I’d… appreciate that,” Grillby said quietly, and Thetis nodded.

“Alright. I’ll get to teaching you then,” she sighed, and then flashed him a half-hearted smirk, “Well… later anyway. Right now I need food. You still cook right? Need me to bring you anything for you to get started?”

Grillby couldn’t help but give a subtle, startled spark. He was used to cooking in the morning - used to being woken up and instructed on how to get started and where and why. But he wasn’t used to Thetis, to how quickly she spoke and how she seemed to lurch forward into the morning. And… honestly… he was really wondering why she was still here, still talking to _him_. And… he was wondering why she didn’t resent him. Thetis had been so comforting, and now she was sticking by his side as if he were somehow her responsibility now. He hadn’t expected this. In fact… some part of him had expected her to be angry with him, to hate him even. He figured he deserved it.

Grillby didn’t know what to do with her kindness.

Somehow, his sluggish mind managed to come up with a list of ingredients for breakfast, and she jogged off into the morning to get it, moving with the same kind of measured intent as someone running an errand for the King himself. Meanwhile Grillby got to setting up the cooking fire and drawing some water - careful not to spill any on himself - and getting it to boil. By the time Thetis made it back to him, the rest of his unit was stirring, grateful for the warmth of the fire and the food as it dispelled the chill of the morning. Even Brigg seemed to huddle a little closer, whatever inner fire the monster had battling grimly with the chill. There wasn’t a frost on the ground yet, but the bite in the air was sharp with the threat of it.

Thetis hovered nearby for most of the morning, occasionally grabbing the attention of a passing ghost and exchanging information when she saw them. Grillby didn’t know how influential she was - really he didn’t know anything about how ranks worked past units and their commanders. But he did notice most of the monsters Thetis spoke with treated her with respect. And then there was the fact that she reported directly to the King when she wrote her reports. Thetis must be a pretty high-ranking individual. When she wasn’t speaking with someone, Thetis was writing, making notes and putting together the pieces of a grand puzzle that Grillby was probably too simple-minded to comprehend.

It wasn’t until the sun was higher in the sky and the world just starting to warm that Thetis finally ran off, probably meeting with the King or one of his closer officials to exchange more information. Grillby was becoming increasingly baffled by her energy. Here he had walked around half-dead for the past few weeks, completely lost and falling. And Thetis seemed to have barely missed a beat. Aside from the first few tears she’d threatened to shed when he broke the news to her, Thetis hardly seemed affected at all. It… forced a thousand strange and hard to explain feelings through Grillby’s flame, coloring him confused and nervous. He felt guilty for shutting down the way he had and yet… also angry that Thetis didn’t.

Didn’t she care...?

Of… of course she cared. She probably cared more than Grillby did. But she’d been through this before, hadn’t she? Maybe… maybe grief was the kind of thing that got easier to bear the more it was felt. Or maybe Thetis just managed it better, _hid_ it better. Maybe Grillby was just weak. That’s what Terros kept telling him anyway.

Speaking of which…

Terros ambled into view just as Grillby finished cleaning up what was left of the meal he’d made, and for once, Grillby felt enough of a movement in his soul to speak first.

“If you’re here to lecture me again, don’t,” Grillby said in a tone that he _hoped_ sounded sharp, but instead only really sounded tired and rough. At least his throat didn’t hurt terribly when he spoke this time, only a vague and dull soreness pulling at the very back of his throat.

As yet another surprise of the morning, Terros shook his head, “I’m actually here for something different for once.”

There was a flicker of something in Terros’ magic though, something like annoyance and relief, though in the measured way he spoke he refused to show it, “Actually I’m here to tell you to get dressed in your best, if you’re not already wearing it. The King has asked to see us.”

Grillby flickered a nervous spark, turning slowly in apprehensive shades of green, “... why?”

Terros shrugged, “I don’t know, honestly.”

He paused, voice dropping a bit lower as he added ashamedly, “I’ve been… too busy with Ora to spend much time guarding His Majesty.”

Before Grillby could stop himself he snapped coldly, “I thought _your purpose_ was supposed to come before _friends_.”

The shift in Terros’ magic was almost instantaneous. It ripped through the air with a wave of angry intent that even some of the monsters around them could feel - though Grillby doubted they could feel it quite as intensely as he did now. They felt it as an overhanging dread, and shuffled a few steps further away. Grillby felt it as a cloud of bitter anger, the taste of which was barely strong enough to mask an insidious, writhing guilt just beneath it.

Grillby had enough of a chance to think provoking the other elemental was a bad idea before deciding, for once, that he wasn’t going to back down from this. He was _sick_ and _tired_ of being bullied. He was tired of resting underneath his own little cloud of guilt. And he was _bitter_ knowing Terros would be so hypocritical as to bicker and yell at him over and over for something he had fallen into himself. If showing attachment for anything other than his purpose was so _bad_ , then Terros deserved to feel just as guilty as he made Grillby feel about it. So Grillby glared back stubbornly. If this was going to be a contest of wills, for _once_ he was going to win it.

“Elemental!”

Both Grillby and Terros jumped, snapping around to face a glaring Brigg - who also gave a start when he realized he had both the elementals’ attentions. Whatever he was going to say was lost on him for a moment and he blinked in their direction hesitantly, as if he hadn’t expected the reaction he’d gotten - or perhaps was a little intimidated he was the focus to _two_ elementals’ gazes.

“Uh… _my_... elemental,” Brigg amended, trying to regain some of his previous grit but sounding a _bit_ too nervous to pull it off. Terros relaxed a bit, and Grillby could only blink in stubborn annoyance, “Pick your fights somewhere else. Gods know rest of us can’t handle your kind of damned intent.”

He added with a more annoyed grumble, “Not _this_ early in the morning anyway.”

What angry colors Grillby had flushed all washed out of him immediately, leaving him flickering cool and dull and nervous. Wait no - he wasn’t going to - oh… _jeez._ Now other monsters were staring at him, probably wondering what all the fuss was about, and looking a little chilled now that the heat he’d apparently been rippling had dropped out of the air. Not wasting another second, Grillby sprang off to finish his cleaning, not bothering to pay Terros any more mind. He’d been embarrassed enough this morning already.

Honestly, Grillby had no better clothes to change into, aside from maybe his armor. The thought of wearing that again still made him feel... nauseous. And besides, Terros wasn’t wearing any either. Granted, he didn’t think the stone elemental actually _owned_ any armor but… Oh… _whatever_. If Grillby was going to meet the King, he was going as he was. Though he did take the time to try and smooth down some of the wrinkles in his clothes as he walked. He stayed a step behind Terros, trying his hardest not to feel like a guilty child for ‘picking fights’.

At length Grillby sighed a breath of smoke and sparks, “Listen… T-”

“I deserved it.”

Grillby blinked. Well… he hadn’t been expecting _that_. He peered up at the stone elemental questioningly, and Terros refused to meet his gaze, instead glaring stubbornly forward, his features twisted in a scowl.

“I’m a miserable excuse for an elemental,” he added quietly, though his tone was still sharp and biting, “I can’t even get my purpose right anymore. I keep getting distracted. It’s pathetic.”

Grillby frowned, a nauseous, nervous feeling curling around his soul. He didn’t know Terros _well_ , he realized that. But… this still sounded _wrong_. Worrying. And just like with the feeling of waking up, Grillby was feeling like he was looking at Terros for the first time. Maybe seeing something he wasn’t really _supposed_ to be seeing. A moment of weakness or… something.

“Are you… doing okay?” Grillby asked a bit hesitantly.

Terros’ face set in a hard, stubborn look and he muttered, “Just fine.”

He said nothing else, and the rigidity in his voice and his look told Grillby he didn’t want to talk any more about it. Terros was shutting himself down in a strange way, hiding behind a scowl. Colder than stone. Grillby sighed at it, feeling the weirdest mix of sympathetic and resentful he’d ever felt in his life.

“How’s Ora doing?” Grillby asked tentatively.

_There_. This slumped a bit of the stiffness out of Terros’ shoulders, turned his rigid scowl into something softer and more open. _Worried_. But more willing to speak.

“She’s… not well,” Terros hummed, “She’s a nervous wreck. If I leave her alone too long the doctors say she starts to panic. It’s like every time I’m out of sight she’s afraid I’m going to turn to dust or something.”

The stone elemental heaved a heavy sigh, “I hope… whatever the King has in store for us… it doesn’t put her back in battle again. _Not yet_ anyway. She’s not ready. I don’t think her soul can handle it.”

Grillby nodded, flickering thoughtfully. It… made sense. They had been taught all their lives that elementals were mostly invincible. What kind of a shock must it have been for Ora to have two of her only friends - her only _family_ \- ripped away from her so… _easily?_ The anxiety, the irrational fear… it reminded Grillby of rain. Or, it reminded him of what rain was to him now that it had been used against him. Though some cold, shivering part of his soul _wished_ he had someone left he could feel that sort of fear over. The paranoia that Gaster or Amathea weren’t safe if they weren’t there with him… he’d gladly take it if it meant they were _alive_.

“Is she having nightmares?” Grillby found himself asking, almost unconsciously, a thought that he spoke the second it crossed his mind.

Something rippled in Terros’ magic, “... _she_ hasn’t, no.”

This time when he looked down at Grillby, his gaze was searching, “Why?”

“It just… happens sometimes,” Grillby said, frowning, trying not to feel like he was baring his soul to someone who _clearly_ shouldn’t be hearing it. Terros already thought he was weak enough _without_ knowing Grillby had nightmares about something as stupid as _rain_ , “If you’re really scared of something and… you think it’s going to kill you. Gaster has -- _had_ them a lot.”

Some pent-up tenseness Grillby hadn’t even noticed relaxed its way out of Terros, and the stone elemental sighed, “Good to know.”

Grillby was relieved when their conversation finally lapsed into silence. Everything inside him from his core down to his soul felt twitchy and nervous and tense. He was a strange jumble of feelings and none of them really _good_. He wanted to feel sorry for Terros. He wanted to sympathize with him. To let the stone elemental know that as far as Grillby was concerned, whatever he was going through was normal. He wasn’t a _failure_ , and he wasn’t _weak_ \- but that probably meant nothing coming from the fire elemental who was apparently _both of those things_. The fact that Terros could possibly see Grillby that way made him nauseous with tense bitterness.

So _fine_. Let Terros believe whatever he wanted. He _deserved_ this self-loathing if he could inflict it on other people.

Grillby tried not to feel guilty for being so vindictive.

Ora wasn’t in the medical tents when they found her - though she _was_ pacing nearby. Grillby could feel the manic nervousness in her magic almost before he saw her. Though it washed away the minute she saw Grillby and Terros. She bounded over to them, a slightly off-beat rhythm in her step as she limped just slightly. If her leg troubled her too much though, she ignored it in the face of the monsters before her.

“Oh! Grillby!” she said lightly, her jade eyes flickering with a happy sort of recognition as she wrapped him up in a hug he wasn’t expecting, “It’s good to see you!”

Ora held him at arm's-length, looking him over with a relieved sort of grin, her voice a two-toned sigh, “And you look _so much better_ than last time I saw you, _thank heavens_.”

Grillby coughed uncomfortably, “That’s… good.”

Had he really been _that bad?_ Apparently so. He probably still was honestly.

Terros interrupted then, doing his best to sound gentle - or at least, as gentle as he _could_ sound. His voice was still a little too harsh and clipped to sound comforting, “We should hurry. We can’t really keep _the King_ waiting.”

Ora’s grin warped into something shriveled and nervous, “Oh… r-right.”

She fidgeted for a second, like she might say something else, but then decided against it. But she was _nervous_. The feeling of it rolled off her magic in waves, made Grillby’s own soul jitter a bit when he felt it. Terros put a gentle hand on her shoulder, smiling reassuringly.

“It’ll be alright.”

“Yeah… yeah I know,” she didn’t _sound_ like she knew. Ora sounded like she thought Terros was lying through his teeth. But she followed him anyway when he turned to lead them off.

The air that settled around the three as they walked was quiet and somber, nervous and hesitant. Uncomfortable. Quiet. Made all the more awkward by the sideways glances monsters threw them as they passed. They probably looked odd, three elementals all walking through the camp with grim purpose. Maybe some monsters thought this was a good thing. Maybe it was heartening to see strong monsters walking through the camp again. Or maybe it made them fearful and nervous. Strong monsters, moving with heavy intent. That must mean there would be fighting again soon. Whatever they thought, nobody moved to hinder them as they walked. If anything, monsters scattered out of their way when they saw them coming, whispering rumors about what they knew elementals for as they went. Once or twice, Grillby saw sideways glances in his direction in particular, and the same whispered words a few times over again. _The wall_. Whatever that was about.

The tent the King stayed in was surprisingly underwhelming - though that made sense, given the circumstances. Grillby highly doubted His Majesty would bother sending anything of great importance to a camp so close to the front lines. Really the only thing that distinguished His tent from the rest was that it was a little larger, and had a flag staked in the ground outside the entrance, the monster kingdom insignia embroidered into it with brilliant purples and blues. The colors seemed to contrast almost jarringly against the cold and grey of the world around them, a spark of optimistic vibrancy that hadn’t yet been smothered out. Two guards posted by the tent waved them in almost lazily - yanking a sharp scowl from Terros.

Stepping inside, Grillby was awash in the smothering feeling of the Boss Monster’s magic and intent, even when it was idle and pleasant. It was like he’d walked out of a cold breeze and right into a bonfire. It wrapped around him like hands cupping around his soul, mute and intense all at once. The small space seemed to amplify it, trapping in the innate magic like a blanket.

Asgore himself was standing at a makeshift table in the center of the tent, the thing cobbled together out of debris and boxes, propping up what looked to be a map. Alongside it there was a quill and ink, some parchment and candles, and a few sealed letters as well. The rest of the tent was lightly furnished - the most impressive thing was just a bed propped a little further off the ground than any normal soldier would bother to fashion for themselves. It was a luxury for monsters, Grillby had heard. It kept their bodies off the cold ground in the winter months, kept them from getting sick or freezing in the night. Though with all the fur Asgore had, Grillby felt vaguely that the King didn’t really _need_ something like that.

Terros and Ora promptly knelt to the ground at Asgore’s feet and Grillby belatedly followed the motion. Right. King. This was the _King_. He needed to show respect. This was respectful, right?

“That’s hardly necessary. Please, stand and join me,” Asgore hummed, his voice a polite and gentle rumble, his mouth a pleasant smile, “We have much to discuss.”

He motioned for them to join him by his table - a gesture that should have looked normal but somehow seemed exaggeratedly grand and intimidating when it was a Boss Monster who made it. Grillby felt compelled to follow the instruction like a moth struggling towards a flickering candle. By some miracle he managed to stay in step beside Terros and Ora instead of bounding forward to Asgore’s side.

Asgore flashed Ora a warm and piteous look, “It is good to see you well again Ora. Is your leg troubling you too much?”

“N-no sir,” Ora stammered, “Well… it’s… not completely well yet but… I’m hopeful.”

Asgore nodded solemnly, “Yes, the wound you received was worrying. It’s good to see you on your feet again, though.”

“Thank you sir.”

The monster's gaze settled then on Terros, compassionate and sincere, “And you’ve been by her side every day. That’s very commendable of you.”

Terros nodded in return, and in his magic Grillby could feel a stronger flicker of guilt. Terros was still upset he’d been away from the King’s side for so long.

“It was very brave of you to go back for her during the battle,” Asgore continued, “Don’t think it went unnoticed.”

When his gaze settled on Grillby, the elemental felt his soul writhe about in his chest. It was hard to return the heavy stare. He… didn’t feel like he deserved to.

“And you are Grillby, correct?” Asgore said with a polite smile, “I do not believe we have ever been officially introduced.”

“Ah… no, we haven’t,” Grillby managed to stammer.

“You were the elemental from the same home camp as I was, correct?”

Grillby nodded.

Asgore chuckled, a warm and bubbling sound that rumbled from deep in his chest, “Well I must commend you on how far you’ve come. I remember when you were such a small, new creature.”

Grillby rippled in an incredulous spark, “You knew me when I was first summoned?”

This dragged another one of those slow, rumbling laughs out of the Boss Monster, “I was one of the monsters who helped summon you, as a matter of fact. You can imagine it takes a lot of magic to summon one of you creatures. I had the pleasure of helping.”

Grillby’s mind went blank, and every nervous, twitchy thing about himself stilled, all except some tugging, nagging feeling of awe that was slowly blooming to life in his chest. This was… this was one of the monsters that had summoned him? Shouldn’t he have remembered that? Shouldn’t he have recognized…? _What?_

Asgore’s voice cut his thoughts off before they could start spiralling too frantically, “So, I have called you all here because I am in need of some help, and I believe you all can give it to me.”

The three elementals watched him expectantly and Asgore’s smile turned a bit more serious as he explained, “We have suffered many losses recently, as I’m sure you all know. Losing my Father was… crippling to say the least, though his loss was not the only severe one. We have also lost several of our commanders, both from my army and ones across the war front. I am running low on strong monsters capable of leading - and inspiring - the rest of the armies forward. We are becoming desperate.”

Asgore gave a measured pause where he sighed a heavy breath, “But, I do not believe we have reason enough yet to give up hope. Winter is almost upon us, and the snow and finishing the harvest will keep all further conflict to a minimum. It is exactly what we need to recover from our losses and plan how best to further our action. It will also be a good time to train new commanders, so that when Spring thaws the world again we can hold our own against those that would destroy us.”

Asgore swept them all up in a fervent gaze, “You three are strong, and you have proven you are more than capable of thinking on your own under pressure.”

He gave Grillby an especially severe look then, “Independant thinking that has, in some cases, saved many lives. Mine included.”

Asgore clasped his hands on the table before him and Grillby felt his soul drop down into his feet as the King spoke again, “It is with this in mind that I would like to promote you three to a commanding status. I will assign you all a subordinate escort, there to teach you what you will need to know about strategy and commanding a force of your own. And I will give you each a title fitting your new rank.”

Silence, even more smothering than the feeling of Asgore’s magic. Grillby felt like everything inside of him had suddenly gone cold.

No. No he didn’t want this. _He didn’t want anything to do with this_. Why? What would _ever_ make Asgore think he could handle something like this? He’d failed _miserably_ protecting _two monsters!_ He couldn’t even stop _one mage_ on his own. He couldn’t strategize. He couldn’t _lead_. He would lead everyone to their own _deaths,_ he was _sure_.

Grillby’s throat felt suddenly tight with panic, and he realized belatedly it wasn’t _just_ his. Ora looked like she might start shaking, her jade eyes clouded with hiding emotion. And Terros. All expression had sunk away from him as if he’d turned into a statue himself.

It was Terros who spoke first, his voice tense and quiet and faltering, as if he had no idea how to voice whatever it was he was thinking, “I am… _honored_ … that you would even consider… _us_ … for something so important. But... surely there are monsters more suited to the task? We are just… _elementals_.”

Asgore nodded, “I admit this is highly unusual. I do not believe elementals have ever had a status given to them like this before - not in any recent history that I know of, at least. But monsters look up to you as creatures of power and reassurance. Especially after the recent salvation of the fleeing army. With proper training, I’m sure you will make good leaders in your own right.”

Grillby thought the world might be tilting - or maybe he was just getting dizzy from holding his breath. It was sounding less and less like this was a choice they had to make. Asgore had already decided on this. This was happening whether they liked it or not. And now he blinked at them expectantly, waiting patiently for the answer they were supposed to give him. And the worst thing about it all was some writhing piece of Grillby’s soul wanted to say _yes. Yes I will do this_. But not because _he_ wanted to. The mere _concept_ of Grillby trying to lead anything terrified him. But for some reason he wanted to, just because Asgore had asked him to. It was a nauseous, jerking feeling almost like a reflex that tugged at some part of his soul he didn't know existed.

For a while none of them moved. For a few shudders of his soul Grillby thought none of them were even breathing. And then Ora stepped forward, bowing sharply, her voice tense as she fought to keep it from shivering when she spoke, “As you command, your Highness.”

Terros bowed as well, “It will be an honor to serve you in any way we can.”

Asgore’s gaze settled heavy and expectant on Grillby, and the elemental thought for a few frightening moments he might crumble to dust right there beneath it. He didn’t want this. He _didn’t want this_. He wanted nothing more than to desperately plead for Asgore to pick someone else, _anyone else_ , for this. And suddenly it was a fight to speak. Suddenly he was convinced the minute he opened his mouth he would agree to this stupidity.

“Sir... reconsider this,” Grillby stammered quietly, his voice barely reaching above the frantic sparks and crackles of his own flame.

Asgore’s voice somehow managed to sound equal parts reassuring and unyielding, “I have thought through this decision since the day we made it to this camp. If I believed you weren't suited for this, I never would have called you here.”

Right… of course. Grillby’s mind was at equal times clawing for some grip of escape from this and lurching forward to finally cave in to the voice of the monster before him.

“I have… one request,” Grillby said past a hoarse breath of smoke. Asgore’s eyebrows went up a bit in surprise, though his smile stayed in place, as if he were watching some plucky child. Ora and Terros looked mortified. And Terros was _glaring._ How _dare_ Grillby negotiate with a King over a position he didn't even _deserve?!_ But Asgore nodded, humoring the monster standing before him.

“And that is?”

“You said… you would be assigning our new rank with a title,” Grillby said slowly, “I… a friend of mine…”

Grillby sighed out a tense breath. Oh heavens how did he say this?

“I was once called The Mage Slayer,” Grillby finally managed to stutter, “It wasn't an official title really… but I would like to keep it.”

To Grillby’s surprise, Asgore nodded almost immediately, “It will be done.”

Some nervous tension Grillby didn't realize he'd been feeling past the other writhing emotiobs in his chest relaxed itself. Finally he allowed himself to bow, the movement stiff and unnatural.

“... then I will serve you.”

“Alright then,” the King hummed, sweeping his gaze across the three of them, “I realize you all have been taught the humility of elementals, and I know ignoring that now will be hard for you. But you must forget everything you've been told about your purpose and what you're worth. You have a new purpose now, and it is no longer aligned to a single King, or a single escort. Your purpose now is to protect the monsters who follow you, to keep them alive as best as you can in any circumstance, and to provide them victory through strategy and by using their strengths. And above all, you are to follow the orders given to you by myself, and the few monsters that hold rank above you.

“I have units who will be here by the end of the week. With them will be your escorts, along with smiths and hands bringing in supplies. When they arrive you will be outfitted with armor fitting your rank, and you will receive your titles in a ceremony in the evening. For now, I invite you to relax and accept this time until they arrive as a bit of leave before your work begins.”

He flashed them what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, “You will do great things I am sure.”

Without another word they were dismissed. The three of them exited, looking dazed and confused as they passed three other monsters waiting outside the tent - likely about to get the same offer the elementals had just received. They stood outside for several long minutes, looking at each other, breathing, trying to wrap their minds around what they'd just heard.

“We’re going to die, aren't we?” Ora asked, shuddering, “We… we’re going to be sent out against another mage or… we're going to get someone killed and they're going to dispel us.”

“No one is going to die,” Terros said, but his voice was distant, like he wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying, “Everything’s... going to be fine.”

“I've never had an escort besides Asgore and the King,” Ora was shaking, “Do they really kill elementals when they do something wrong?”

“Ora calm down.”

“Calm down?!” Ora screeched, her dual-toned voice dissonant in her panic, “Why aren't _you_ worried about this?! We’re going to end up just like Gravin and Umber!”

“Grillby’s been with an escort all his life and he’s still alive! He’s probably the best prepared out of all of us!” Terros shouted back, “Grillby tell her it's going to be f - woah hey!”

Grillby didn't realize until Terros was reaching for him that he'd started falling over. He barely managed to catch himself before he tipped back and fell - managing just barely to slump a little more gracefully to the ground than if he'd altogether fainted. He sat there for a minute, looking up at the two stone elementals, blinking and trying to clear floating lights from his vision. Last time this happened he’d been on a bridge. And now he had no Amathea to talk him down. What would she say? What could _anyone say_ about this?

“The only reason… he asked us this… is because we’re strong monsters, right?” Grillby said finally, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking as he spoke, “They need their strongest monsters right now.”

When he thought he was okay enough, Grillby hauled himself back to his feet, “If we’re strong enough to fight mages… we're strong enough to lead other monsters against something as small as _humans_.”

“But we’re not strong enough to fight mages,” Ora said quietly.

“Yes we are,” Grillby tried to sound firm and at least mildly confident. He didn't think he succeeded, “I've killed several, and it was with Terros’ help that we killed the last.”

“Fine,” Ora shuddered, jaw clenched in a stubborn and fearful frown, her fists balled at her sides, “ _I_ can't kill mages. I… the one that killed His Majesty… it… I wasn't strong enough to stop any of it. I'm not strong enough to even be called _an elemental._ I… I don't even know why Asgore called me in there. I was _completely useless.”_

She looked away from them, huffing out a wincing breath. She sounded like she might cry, and at the same time she sounded _angry_ , “I need to go.”

Ora walked away, and neither Grillby nor Terros had the heart to follow her. Grillby didn't even know what he'd say if he did. They stood awkwardly beside each other for a few moments before Terros finally snapped.

“Well, I'm going to go figure out if elementals can get drunk,” Terros scoffed and shot a frown in Grillby’s direction, “Care to join me?”

Grillby shook his head, “Next time maybe.”

Terros made a grand gesture like a shrug, only a bit more manic and grumbled, “Fine. More for me,” Before turning and storming off to heavens knew where. Some tugging thought in the back of Grillby’s mind told him neither of them should be alone right now. They needed to stay together, find strength in something. But when all _he_ wanted to do right now was find some nook to crawl into for the rest of his life… he guessed he couldn’t blame them for trying to find some solitude. With a sigh and a scowl, Grillby wandered off as well, listless and nervous, dread curling knots in his soul. He tried not to believe that Ora was right, and the King hadn’t just assigned them some sort of death sentence.

What was he supposed to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah so. This is when things change. There are so many things I want to happen. So many things I NEED to happen.  
> And of course, one specific event you guys are all waiting for.
> 
> Now the fight is - do I do all the things I WANT, and risk making you wait way to long for the thing you're WAITING FOR.  
> Or do I speed things along?
> 
> I realize you guys probably don't mind either way. It's just... something I'm concerned about. Because if things go like I want them to, this last arc is going to long, which like I've said before, is something I'm always worrying over ahaha :'D


	52. The White-Whisper and The Mage-Slayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot happens because the writer managed to make this chapter almost 6000 words long
> 
> In which there is some teaching  
> Some learning  
> Some hope
> 
> and some resentment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fanart feature guys. Jeezums you've been active this past month ahaha. I'm beyond flattered seriously :3
> 
> The first is another from Kakurosu on DA, one of those AU of an AU kinda scenarios I suppose? But it's their really cool take on [what would've happened if Grillby had absorbed all that fire he made in the woods](http://kakurosu.deviantart.com/art/Enraged-Elemental-647730974?q=the3Ss%2F70223120&qo=0) instead of just letting it burn. The colors are awesomeeeeee.
> 
> And procrastinatingbookworm on Tumblr has struck again with a cool doodle of what they think a mage looks like! They do in fact look quite sinister. 
> 
> Also **quick PSA that there is going to be a change in update schedule**. More info in the notes at the end of the chapter.

Grillby sluggishly made his way back to Brigg’s side of the camp, suddenly feeling very exhausted. The chill of the day wrapped around his shoulders like a heavy blanket, weighing down his soul. He couldn't feel more dreary than if a drizzle had decided to prickle it's way across his core. At some point he reached a hand up to grasp his necklace, letting the steady jolt as his hp seeped away keep him grounded in the present. He needed to think. He needed to get help. _Advice_. He needed to prepare. He… he couldn’t let himself be desperate anymore. He wasn't allowed to wallow in his own pathetic misery and wait until he inevitably fell down. Monsters were going to be counting on him soon.

He couldn't shut down.

He couldn't let himself be smothered.

When Grillby made it back to the campfire, Brigg greeting him with a teasing - if not gruff, “So, which one of you won?”

It took a second for Grillby to remember what he was talking about. Right. Him and Terros.

“We didn’t actually fight,” Grillby answered mildly, joining the commander on the ground beside the flickering flame. It was cool enough today that monsters still huddled nearby the campfire even as the day progressed, loathe to leave the heat and relative comfort it provided.

Brigg shrugged, his small wings giving a flare to exaggerate the motion, “I figured. The whole camp would’ve known if you _actually did_.”

When Grillby said nothing in return, the dragon monster huffed out a snort of smoke, “And _why_ , pray tell, are you so grim _now?_ Aside from the usual reason.”

Grillby flickered a muted glare in Brigg’s direction. And then sighed.

“I’m being promoted.”

Whatever rough humor Brigg had left in his expression was snapped away, “What.”

“There’s going to be a ceremony at the end of the week,” Grillby sighed out a tense hiss of smoke, “They’re making me a commander.”

“But you’re -”

“-an elemental, yes, I know,” Grillby sighed.

“Elementals don’t _lead!”_ Brigg snapped, and Grillby couldn’t tell if the dragon was truly _angry_ or just overwhelmed - maybe both, “You’re only useful when you’re taking orders.”

Grillby felt a prickle of bitter indignation rising up in his soul and he flickered red and purple in a deepening scowl.

“Why would the King do this, _now_ of all times?” Brigg huffed, smoke and sparks curling past his teeth, “We’re tilting on the edge of ruin as it is without taking unnecessary risks with _elementals_.”

Grillby piped an angry laugh, “Jeez Brigg, you talk like you think I’m unstable.”

“You _are_ unstable,” Brigg snapped back fiercer that Grillby thought he would, his voice so sharp the elemental flinched. He felt like someone had just punched him in the chest, and he watched Brigg with growing nervousness as the dragon shouted, “You’re an emotional, self-absorbed _mess_. You can’t think for yourself for more than two minutes - you can’t even keep yourself from falling down! And now you’re going to be put in control of your _own_ soldiers fighting gods-know-what out there? They expect you to make your own decisions and by _some miracle_ you won’t get everyone _killed?!_ Ha! You’re more likely to lead yourself off a cliff right now than lead an army!”

“I _know_ , alright?” Grillby interjected before Brigg could run off on another rant. He was shaking, and clenched his hands tightly together in an effort to keep himself still, “I _know_ I can’t do this, but I wasn’t given a choice! _You_ try staring down _Asgore himself_ and refusing something like that!”

“You still could’ve refused, boy.”

Grillby crackled another wincing laugh, “And risk what, Brigg, being dispelled?”

The dragon monster gave a derisive snort, “Boy, nobody’s going to dispel you over something stupid like that.”

“How do you _know_ that?” Grillby shouted, and then coughed, wincing at the pain slowly growing in his throat, “I’d be refusing to do something the _King himself_ told me to do, Brigg. I don’t… what was I supposed to do?”

Grillby scowled, slipping up a hand to rub his neck as he tried to keep speaking, “And what the hell do I do now?”

For a while, it seemed Brigg decided to have mercy on him and stay silent. For several long minutes they sat there and said nothing, Grillby staring miserably into the fire in front of him and rubbing his throat in an effort to sooth it. Brigg was scowling, every once in a while letting out a thoughtful twist of smoke. Finally he spoke, slowly.

“Commanders lead with an iron will and unshakeable intent,” Brigg rumbled, “You must remain calm even if everything goes wrong. Even in retreat. If you panic, so does everyone else.”

Grillby nodded quietly.

“But you also have to be sound enough of mind to know when your plans need to change,” Brigg continued, his voice a low, rolling growl, “If something goes wrong on the field, you don’t just have to know when to _retreat_. Sometimes running will just get more monsters killed. You need to know how to counter attack, how to think around what your enemies are doing. You need to be able to recognize what they’re doing when they’re moving across the field. And no matter _what_ goes wrong, it’s _your fault_ if you lose half your unit. Nobody else’s.”

Brigg snorted out a heavy breath of smoke, “You’re supposed to get some kind of military training for this - or at least been fighting a few years. You’re neither.”

Right. It was good to have _even more reasons_ to doubt any of this would end well. And Grillby hadn’t even met his new escort yet.

“You’ve got a few things down well enough though,” Brigg said after a pause, and Grillby watched him doubtfully, “You’ll do a lot to keep monsters alive. That’s something at least. Means you’ll think before you lead them off into something dangerous. And you’re strong when you have to be.”

There was a pause.

“I figure your first _real_ problem’s going to be getting people to listen to you.”

Grillby flickered a frown in Brigg’s direction, and the dragon monster snorted a puff of smoke at him, “Don’t _glare_ at me like that. It’s true. You’re a _weapon_. Not a monster. It’s like asking someone to take orders from a talking sword.”

“And what do you suggest I do then?” Grillby spat bitterly.

To Grillby’s surprise - and resentment - Brigg cracked a smirk at this, glittering teeth bared in a half-snarl, “The same thing every good commander does. Scare them shitless.”

* * *

Grillby didn’t know what shifted in Brigg, but from that point forward the commander went from being Grillby’s biggest critic to being his… _mentor_ , almost. At least in the week he had until his new escort arrived. He had Grillby up at dawn every morning talking to him about strategy and drawing charts in the dirt for the elemental to look at and - hopefully - remember. He had a way of making up scenarios for Grillby to counter, little tricks and mind games that put a mischievous glint in the dragon’s eye.

“Say I’ve got thirty humans coming down from a hill,” Brigg rumbled, drawing a few arrows in the dirt with his clawed fingers, “Half split left and half split right. What do you do?”

“Are there any mages?”

Brigg slapped him upside the head - something that didn’t hurt but was increasingly annoying with every time it happened.

“Humans might as well be mages to the rest of us monsters,” he growled severely, “Your soldiers are weaker than you are, boy. Now, how do you keep them _all_ from getting killed?”

“I don’t know!”

Brigg narrowed his eyes then, “Is that what you’ll tell the King when your unit is gone and you’re the only thing left?”

And so it went.

When Grillby wasn’t dealing with Brigg and all his riddles, he was spending time with Ora and Terros. Sparring. It… hadn’t been his idea. The evening after the King had told them of their promotion, Terros had tottered up to Grillby _incredibly drunk_ \- a feat Grillby had honestly thought was impossible - and started ranting on about mages. How he and Ora had no idea what they were doing. How they’d need to be prepared if they ever faced one again. Honestly, Terros was worse to try and reason with drunk than when he was sober - but at least he’d lost enough of his inhibitions to ask for someone else’s help. Help that started out as _“give me some goddamn magic lessons, sparks!”_ and shortly afterwards turned into _“I think I’m gonna to be s--”_.

It had been… an interesting night. Grillby was glad he was on the sober end of it.

Though after his fit of getting sick, and before Terros could managed to pass out completely on the ground, he’d started talking. He talked for what seemed like _hours_ , quiet mumbling that half the time made no sense. But Grillby had sat by quietly and listened, and even in spite of his annoyance with the other elemental, he could feel his soul lurch painfully with every word.

Terros wouldn’t stop talking about Umber. Terros was the older of the two of them, he’d said - over and over again - so he should’ve gone and Umber should have stayed. He should have followed Asgore out. _He_ should’ve been the one that faced down that last mage. _He_ should’ve been the one that was shattered. He should have made Umber help Ora back.

They were best friends, did you know that? Ora and Umber. Best, _best_ friends. They were _inseparable_. She must be so angry I didn’t make him stay behind. Do you think she hates me? _She has to_. This is _my fault_.

Which of course was ridiculous, Grillby knew. Whatever happened… there was no changing it now. And it was obvious enough to him that Ora didn’t hate Terros. But Terros was beyond reasoning - and now finally falling asleep - so Grillby just sat and listened and… pretended he wasn’t so relieved to hear someone else thought the same as him. That someone else was afraid this was _all their fault_.

After that mess of a confession, Grillby almost felt obligated to help. Well, to help as much as he could for whatever short time they’d be together. He was sure he’d see Ora and Terros around camp. But if they all had to train their own units, it’d be a miracle if they had time to do anything together, let alone spar.

Sparring with those two was… sobering for Grillby. It showed him how far he’d fallen. He was _weak_. He got exhausted quickly, the empty pit opening up in his chest so much faster than it should when he used his magic. And it wasn’t just his magic either. Running, dodging, even bracing behind his shield was noticeably harder. He’d been _weeks_ without training with anyone. _Weeks_ doing nothing but wallowing in his own sorrow and doing busy work just to keep from falling down. Weeks with a soul that was almost too tired to keep going. His stats had dropped, his hp had lowered. He was a _mess_. It was almost a relief when the troops and supply train came a few days late. It gave him just that much longer to build himself back up again.

In the evening, if they had time, Thetis sometimes would teach Grillby letters. She took the time to write out the alphabet in the dirt and take Grillby through how each of the nonsensical symbols sounded. Learning _that_ was going to be harder than learning Gaster’s signs, and just learning those signs had been hard enough. Grillby was starting to wonder if he shouldn’t just ask Thetis to read the letter and be done with it.

But… at the same time… he wanted to read his letter _by himself_. Someday in the future when he was alone and his soul was ready and he could actually appreciate what was written. It was sad but… for now… the letter mostly just took up space in Grillby’s inventory. But he was determined to read it, _someday_.

It gave him something to look forward to, however dismal that may be.

When the day finally came for the ceremony Grillby was nothing but nervous. From the moment he woke up he was turning in sickening greens, emanating nothing but flustered heat and sparks that made some of the monsters around him cringe. He accidentally burned the breakfast he was making, he paced, he _signed_. Oh he probably looked insane, walking in circles making shaky hand gestures to nothing in particular. But he’d seen Gaster do it before and… maybe it would calm him down?

I didn’t. Not in the _slightest_. But it gave him something to do with his energy - and made Thetis laugh when she came back from an errand and saw him.

Thetis wrapped an arm around his shoulders, somehow managing not to flinch against the feverish heat, “You’re going to be _fine_ lad. Now come on. The King promised you new armor right?”

Oh her eyes had lit up with a spark at that, her face an exuberant grin as she led him towards the side of camp the reinforcements were settling in. They were already pitching tents and brushing down horses and penning in other animals they’d used to haul their equipment in with. Grillby had to wonder if any of the monsters he saw now would be his in the future.

Thetis took him around to every smith and merchant, talking and pointed excitedly at anything she saw and asking if Grillby wanted it - which for the most part he didn’t. He didn’t want _anything_. But it was hard to stay somber and reluctant with someone around who was so body-and-soul eager to help him.

At length they found a smith whose little plot was put-together-enough to show off her wares. She’d been more than surprised to see an _elemental_ of all things asking after her armor, but had willingly showed them to her best items when Thetis flashed a fancy piece of paper in her direction. Grillby of course couldn’t read it, but he recognized the King’s seal. They must be some documents about Grillby’s new position and armor… uh… when had Thetis… gotten… those…? The smith ushered them to a table full of armor, all of it shimmering faintly with magic.

“They’ve all got wards against spell craft, according to my enchanter,” the smith explained, “And they traveled with me, so just yell if it needs…”

She looked Grillby up and down, “You know… _anything else_ cast on it _._ ”

What, did she seriously think _metal_ needed _fireproofed?_ Or maybe she just figured he would ask about water-proofing it? Either way, she’d disappeared before anything else could be said, talking to another soldier who had wandered over to the swords she carried.

Thetis helped him pick out his new set - which didn’t end up being _that much different_ than the armor he’d had before, just pauldrons and gauntlets over mail. All of this set was enchanted, and the metal itself was probably of a higher quality - and all of it stained darker grey just for the sake of looking more intimidating. The biggest change was in Grillby’s chainmail. At Thetis’ _insistence_ , he swapped it out for what looked like dragon scales. They were small and crafted intricately, each row layered atop the rest like Brigg’s own scales might be. The minute Grillby tried it on though, he was surprised at how much easier the stuff was to move around in. It was so flexible in fact, that the mail itself could extend in sleeves all the way down his arms without hindering his movements any.

“That’s scale mail,” Thetis said with a prideful smirk as she looked him over, “It’s a hell of a lot better at takin’ arrows and heavy magic hits than chainmail, I’ll give it _that_.”

She frowned then and said more severely, “Be careful of anything stabbing up at ya though.”

Grillby nodded, standing and waiting patiently as Thetis walked a circle around him. She gave a satisfied nod, and then grinned.

“You need a cloak.”

“I do _not_ need a cloak,” Grillby said with a crackling chuckle, “Those things just get in the way.”

But she’d already hooked an arm around his and was dragging him off, “Nonsense! They make you look like a commander. _Besides_ , they’re a hell of a lot easier to waterproof than metal.”

She… had a point. And she wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer anyway.

While Thetis went about the task of picking out what she thought was the _perfect_ cloak for Grillby to wear, Grillby busied himself looking at swords. He didn’t need anything _grand_. He just needed… _something_. Especially since his previous one had been either lost or destroyed - he still didn’t really know. Though he wondered…

Grillby waved over the owner of the stall he stood beside, asking with a nervous flicker, “You wouldn’t happen to have _just_ a sword hilt laying around here anywhere, would you?”

This earned him a raised eyebrow from the monster running the stall, but they left to look anyway, coming back a few minutes later with the rough beginnings of a sword hilt - it was probably just being made, and still waiting for the blade to be finished. It was good enough to practice with at least. He huffed out a smoking sigh, his flame flickering in the colors of a frown as he focused on his magic. Flame pulled its way to life across the sword hilt, sticking densely together like one of Grillby’s spears. The molten magic snaked down along the hilt, latching itself to the cross guard in a fiery sword blade.

The monster watched him with wide eyes and jaw agape. Grillby did his best to ignore them.

Grillby went through the experimental motions of a few test swings, frowning at how strange it felt to swing around a blade made of magic. He was used to the heavy pull of a broadsword, not _this,_ which was practically weightless and completely off-balance. If he didn’t watch himself, he’d probably swing his arm too wide and end up hitting someone he wasn’t trying to. _That_ would be a problem. Grillby handed the hilt over and shyly went back to his browsing, trying to dodge the flabbergasted stares of the shop keeper. Eventually he settled on a broadsword to replace his old one and resolved to commission some new weapon for himself later… if he ever had the time for that sort of thing.

It was around then that Thetis returned to him, a bundle of magic-laced fabric draped across her arm. She draped it grandly around Grillby’s shoulders, clasping it neatly using a pair of brooches inlaid with the Delta Rune. The cloak was a shorter one that stopped just above his knees, with a deep cowl to keep the rain at bay, and shimmered in shifting colors of purple and blue so dark they were nearly black.

Thetis stepped away from him when she was content with how it draped over his shoulders, looking him up and down one more time before laughing, “Why so grim? You look great!”

Grillby flickered a dismal smile, “I… don’t think I really deserve all this.”

Thetis wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leading him off in the direction of the ceremony that would be taking place. It was a little awkward because she was a bit shorter than he was, but Grillby walked with her like that anyway.

“You deserve every inch of it,” Thetis chimed, her voice firm with certainty, “I mean, you saved the _King_ for heaven’s sakes.”

She blinked at him expectantly, waiting for him to agree or… really say _anything_. But Grillby had nothing. That very familiar feeling of dread and grief was curling around his soul again, biting and bitter. He honestly didn’t care about saving the King. He cared about…

“Ammy would be proud,” Thetis said, her voice gentler this time, her smile sadder, “And Gaster too. You know that.”

“If they were here this wouldn’t be happening,” Grillby murmured back with a flickered frown.

Thetis shrugged, “Aye that might be true. We’ll never know that now. But I know Ammy wanted to see you lead someday. She thought you had what it takes to be a good commander.”

“She… told you that?”

“No,” Thetis said with a tired laugh, “But she didn’t have to. Just… think about it. She put you in charge of holding off a bunch of humans on a _bridge_ , Grillby. That’s a pretty scary situation, even for commanders that _know_ what they’re doing. And she trusted _you.”_

Something fluttered around in Grillby’s soul. Something like hope, or maybe the faintest glimmer of confidence.

“Elemental!” Brigg’s booming voice snatched up both Grillby and Thetis’ attention. The dragon monster was making his way over to them through a crowd of increasingly dense monsters - all of them likely gathering to see what monsters were becoming commanders. Showing support. Brigg looked more than disgruntled having to wade through them, but he did, and he caught Grillby up in a skeptical look when he reached them.

“Really? A cloak?”

Grillby flickered a smirk and jabbed a thumb in Thetis’ direction.

“What? He looks _great!”_ Thetis shrieked indignantly, “I’d like to see _you_ dress him up any better!”

“He looks like a ponce.”

“He _looks_ like he’s gonna _kick some human ass_ , ya whinin’ gnashnab!” Thetis bristled, crossing her arms and glaring up at Brigg, “And besides! It’ll keep the rain and snow off.”

To this, Brigg held up his hands in defeat, and Grillby could almost laugh at it, “Fine _fine_. Alright now, _boy_.”

Brigg clapped a hand down on Grillby’s shoulder, “You remember everything we talked about?”

Grillby gave a nervous flicker, “... _hopefully?”_

The dragon snorted a smoke-filled chuckle, “Keep your head about you.”

“Right.”

“Let ‘em respect you and hate you before anything else,” Brigg continued, “They’ll learn to like you plenty enough when you keep ‘em from getting killed.”

“Right,” Grillby nodded, this time managing to sound a little surer of himself.

“And for the love of any god out there don’t let this new escort boss you around,” the dragon harrumphed, “ _You’re_ the commander. Act like it.”

“Aye, the scaly’s got a point,” Thetis chimed in, “If your lads don’t think you’ve got control they’ll be scared to listen to you when the time comes.”

“Okay _okay_ ,” Grillby said with a flustered spark, taking a step back from the both of them, “I’m not disappearing into the wilds guys. I’ll be right across camp! If I need your advice I’ll _definitely_ ask for it.”

Grillby looked between the two monsters before him, who both seemed to be on the verge of saying more but, for now, held themselves in check. The smallest blooming of fondness came to life in Grillby’s chest. They cared. They cared _so much_ and they barely knew him. Why did they bother? Why…?

Grillby’s soul ached.

“Alright then,” Brigg grumbled, making a shooing motion with his hands, “Don’t be late for your own titling ceremony. Go. Get.”

Thetis grinned, “Aye get going. And for the gods’ sake lad at least _pretend_ you’re excited!”

Grillby grinned at them and without another word turned to meander off where he knew the other monsters would be gathering.

He just barely heard Thetis sigh as he walked out of earshot, “I was wondering if I’d see him burn that color again.”

* * *

Like the ceremony Gerson had been in before, this one was also short and simple - only more grandiose because the King himself was giving the promotions. Grillby stood in line for what felt like ages, his soul a writhing mass of just about every emotion he could imagine. He was nervous and excited and… and guilty and regretful. He still… very much felt like he didn’t deserve any of this. He _definitely_ felt like he shouldn’t be happy about it.

But if what Thetis had said was true… then… maybe… maybe it would be okay for him to be excited. Maybe it was okay for him to at least _pretend_ to be confident. Maybe this is what his friends would’ve wanted.

Despite the small burst of excitement at having the ceremony itself, the overall atmosphere was still grim. There were a _lot_ of monsters being promoted today. Almost enough to make a small unit of their own. All the monsters assembled to be given their titles looked varying amounts of excited and dismal, and most of them were young. Too young to have ever gone to any kind of military school, young. Too young to have seen a lot of combat, young. It was worrying. And Grillby _did_ worry about it, for the several minutes he stood in line, stepping forward bit by bit, nearing the King. Already he was close, and his soul felt tight in his chest.

“Kneel Ora.”

Grillby watched as Ora stepped forward from the line beside him and kneeled before her King. She and Terros were now finally dressed in armor, as opposed to the simple tunics they’d worn before. Like Grillby’s, theirs was mostly for show. The kind of magic it would take to harm an elemental made of stone would be more than enough to wrend metal and tear chain links. But both the stone elementals looked impressive regardless. Intimidating and strong.

Asgore waved a hand over the Ora, like he had with the dozen or so monsters before her. He wreathed the elemental in his magic, and smiled.

“Rise Ora, the Unbreakable Shield.”

Grillby flashed a pitiful flicker in Ora’s direction. It was… a fitting name. Whether Ora thought it was cruel or comforting remained to be seen. There was still that tell-tale dissonance in the rhythm of her steps as she walked to join the others who had already been titled. Her expression was unreadable, and with so many monsters around Grillby couldn’t really tell what she was feeling.

“Kneel Terros.”

Terros stepped forward, leaving Grillby standing alone.

Terros kneeled just as Ora had, flinching just slightly when Asgore wreathed him in magic.

“Rise Terros, the Unfailing Sentinel.”

Terros rose and walked to join Ora, murmuring one last thank you to his King before he went. A few whispers were being exchanged in the audience now, an overall sense of nervousness filling the air.

 _Elementals._ Could elementals _lead?_ Was this a good idea? Well, it was too late now.

“Kneel Grillby.”

The tightness in Grillby’s soul leapt up into his throat as he walked forward. He kneeled before the King just like all the others had, feeling self-conscious and awkward. Above his head he felt the shudder of magic as Asgore wreathed him in that purposeful flame. It was beautiful, yet strange and foreign. Strange boss-monster magic Grillby doubted he’d ever understand.

“Rise Grillby, the Mage-Slayer.”

Grillby stood.

_“Well you remember Grillby the Mage-Slayer! He’ll take you on anytime human!”_

Grillby offered one last thank you to the King as well before making his way over to join Ora and Terros, and all the other monsters who had been promoted today. At the back of the crowd, a happy, magic-filled shriek went up from Thetis.

_“I think Grillby the Mage-Slayer is an awesome title.”_

Asgore began a grand closing speech that Grillby didn’t bother to listen to. It was nothing he hadn’t heard the King say before. They needed to stay strong and determined. The winter was offering them a second chance at winning this war. Now was the time to stand together and move forward as one.

_“Aye, and it’s not untrue either.”_

Grillby felt a tense build of conflicting emotions start writhing in his chest again. He didn’t know what he was supposed to be feeling now. Pride? Regret? He was so confused and now he was starting to feel lonely again. He appreciated Thetis and Brigg… and Terros and Ora… he _did_. But he still felt lonely here. He knew he was missing something. He would _always_ know.

_“You’re a strong elemental Grillby, you deserve some sort of title by now.”_

But he wasn’t allowed to pine over it anymore. The decision had been made for him. He had been assigned a new purpose whether he was ready for it or not. And besides all that, he was finally starting to feel like… his friends wouldn’t want him to pine away anyway. They had given everything to keep Grillby safe. He would be _wasting_ that if he just let himself give in to despair and turn to dust.  Wasting not only that, but the work and care everyone else had invested in him as well. So… he should want this promotion then. He should do the best he could with it.

That wasn’t selfish, right? That wasn’t cruel, was it? This… this wasn’t wrong then…? This didn’t make him cold… or uncaring…? Because no matter how many places his mind went, no matter how many circles he reasoned himself around through, this still felt _wrong_. Something was missing.

Something would _always_ be missing.

Grillby didn’t realize Asgore had ended his speech until Terros was putting a hand on his shoulder, his opalescent eyes glinting with distant concern.

“We’re meeting our escorts now.”

Grillby’s soul gave a twist, “Right… right okay, let’s go then.”

Terros lead them, falling in step behind the King as the monarch slowly left the stage. He was constantly being stopped by one monster or another who wanted to ask him a question or shake his gigantic, pawed hands and thank him for the opportunity they’d been presented or… anything else you could possibly talk to a King about. Grillby spotted Thetis shooting him an encouraging thumbs-up from the back of the crowd of monsters, trying to reassure him that everything would be fine before he left. It still seemed like ages though before the King finally disentangled himself from the throng of monsters and the three elementals could follow him more freely as he walked through the camp.

Asgore lead them back to his tent where three monsters stood waiting and talking quietly amongst themselves. All conversation dropped when they entered, and the monsters bowed courteously to the King - who of course quickly bid them rise so he could get introductions out of the way. Honestly Grillby was intimidated by the monsters there to escort Ora and Terros. They were _huge_ , with the kind of rippling magic and intent that could very well put a crack in stone. Actually… they really reminded Grillby of Brigg. But there magic still felt small when compared to Ora and Terros, and when compared to the King.

The last monster was a rather fragile-looking bird monster. They stood on four long, spindly legs, wings tucked and folded neatly at their sides. Their tail-feathers all used to be long and draping, if the two remaining long feathers were any indication. Most of them were cropped short though - short enough that they wouldn’t get in the way should the monster need to fight, but long enough that their flight wasn’t destroyed completely. They swiveled a long neck to face Grillby, their dark eyes stark against the icy white of their feathers. Grillby felt a cold chill just looking at them. This escort was _definitely_ his.

Asgore ushered for the two to shake hands and they did.

“Grillby the Mage-Slayer,” Asgore introduced with a nod, “And Ruke the White-Whisper.”

“It’ll be a pleasure to work with you,” Grillby said tensely, already feeling the cold seep into his hand just from the short touch. It was a force of will for him not to wince and snatch his hand away.

“I’m sure,” was Ruke’s only answer.

“I have high hopes for you two working well together,” Asgore hummed in a sort of prideful, almost fatherly tone of excitement, “Grillby, Ruke is highly recommended from the fronts to the East. They’ve organized many successful defenses of the lines there, and one or two attacks as well. They’ll be a good mind to teach you strategy for the battles ahead.”

Grillby managed to muster some enthusiasm into his voice, “I’m excited to learn, sir.”

Asgore laughed heartily at this, “Good! You two will make a great team together I’m sure, what with Ruke’s tactics and your own might. I have high hopes for the both of you! Now, dawn tomorrow I will be meeting with the commanders in camp. Afterwards, we’ll show you to your unit, and you both can begin your work. Now Terros, I’d been meaning to ask you -”

Just like that Asgore was moving away from them, his infectious energy laying thick and smothering around Terros and his escort.

Grillby turned back to Ruke, flickering what he hoped looked like a pleasant smile - it… tended to be hard for monsters who had just met him to notice things like that, “Well, uh… while you’re here, I was hoping maybe we could -”

Ruke walked past him. Slowly. Pridefully. _Purposefully_ ignoring him. Grillby watched the monster leave the tent, stunned for a few brief seconds. Well, he’d expected to be treated worse than he was used to but… that was just _rude_. Grillby looked over to Ora for some kind of advice, but the elemental was already talking somewhat nervously to her own escort. At least the two of them seemed… civil, if nothing else. And of course Asgore still had Terros and his escort occupied. _Nobody_ but Grillby had seen that happen.

Grillby slipped out the tent after his escort. The bird monster hadn’t made it very far - their prideful strut only carried them so fast.

“Ruke,” Grillby said persistently, falling in step beside the monster, “Listen, before you leave. I wanted to ask some advice on -”

If Grillby had blinked, he would’ve missed the movement of Ruke’s wing. It was some miracle of reflexes that Grillby leaped back in time to watch the long, almost razor-like feathers brush through the air. With them came a trailing frost that crept across Grillby’s armor like tiny, crawling fingers.

“ _Elemental_ ,” Ruke hissed, their voice deceptively neutral despite the bite and intent it carried, “I don’t care if you were hand-picked by the _King himself_. I am not your mentor. I am not your _friend_. I am your escort, and you’ll treat me as such. My only jobs is making sure you don’t get a bunch of monsters _killed._ And if _you_ don’t want to end up in a bad way-”

They offered him a bristling glare, the air around them biting with an increasing cold, “- you’ll stay out of my way and do what you were summoned for.”

With that they turned and strutted off again - this time faster and more forcefully, trailing frost with every smooth step of their stilted legs. Grillby watched them go, brushing the frost off his armor and flickering a scowl, whatever bits of hope he’d rekindled quickly being crushed out by bitter resentment.

He hated everything about this already, and he hadn’t even started training units yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so... the short version for those of you who don't want to listen to my life story is: I have A LOT of stuff going on right now. So I'm putting CR on something I call a "soft haitus". I plan on being gone for about two weeks (my finals end on Dec 16, so around then). I could be gone for less. But I definitely won't be gone for more. If nothing else I'll post another chapter with a second status update.
> 
> * * *


	53. Insert Training Montage Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author is just as clueless on depicting the passage of time as Grillby is clueless on training new recruits.
> 
> At least that means we have something in common I guess!

Grillby spent the evening with Brigg and Thetis, talking about his first day and how he should be presenting himself and… just… generally being fidgety and nervous. He didn’t tell them about Ruke. He… wanted to handle that on his own, he’d already decided. Not because he thought Brigg and Thetis _couldn’t_ help him - their advice was more than appreciated, and he needed it _desperately_. But this was a problem that came from Grillby simply being… an elemental. This was a problem that came from someone thinking that made him inferior. He was determined to prove them wrong. On his own. Even if he didn’t really… know how to do that… _yet._

Maybe he should add that to his small list of reasons to _not_ fall down: Brigg and Thetis, the other elementals, whatever monsters he would be commanding - and the spite he already had for Ruke. Was that a bad reason? Probably. It was probably bad as well that his purpose didn’t fall anywhere on that list.

Dawn the next day brought on the King’s first meeting - which was mostly statistics and jargon that Grillby didn’t really understand yet. Brigg spent most of the meeting hovering over Grillby’s shoulder and muttering rough translations that the elemental could better understand. Most of their troop movements were slowing to a stop now that winter was starting to set in - the first frost had fallen _that morning._ They’d be focusing on training the troops they had and reestablishing some of the outposts taken by humans before the wall had gone up. Those humans would be cut off from their reinforcements and supplies for the winter. They’d be feeling trapped and dangerous right now - a problem to be dealt with when they had the monsters to spare to deal with it.

Grillby still hadn’t asked what this _wall_ was about yet, but he was glad it was there, whatever it was.

Then they were dismissed, all except Thetis and a few ghosts who had been busily jotting down and exchanging information, and who now stepped up to speak to the King directly. Brigg walked with Grillby to where his unit would be meeting for the morning, the elemental trying not to let his nervousness show in the color of his fire. Brigg stayed quiet and stern, finally speaking when they made it to Grillby’s unit. It wasn’t a _full_ unit really, only about twenty monsters were there. Grillby didn’t know if it was because they didn’t trust him with a full unit under his care or if they were running low on soldiers to train. They had already pitched their tents together and stood around waiting, drowsy with from the early morning and the cold.

“They’re young,” Brigg said with a snort of smoke, “Freshly recruited I’ll bet.”

“Is that bad?”

Brigg shrugged, “They might have some attitude problems.”

His muzzle curled in the barest of smirks, “Don’t worry about it. You’re an elemental. They’ll probably too scared of you _not_ to do what you say.”

A flicker of white caught Grillby’s eye and the elemental flickered a scowl. Right… Ruke.

“You the new escort?” Brigg asked, sizing the bird monster up with a skeptical glare.

“I am,” Ruke declared - sounding much more pleasant this morning than they had the day before, “And would you be the previous?”

Brigg coughed a laugh, “Do I _look_ like Amathea to you?”

Ruke frowned uncomprehendingly, and the dragon rumbled, “Did you do _any_ asking around on who you’re being charged with?”

“I haven’t had much _time._ ”

Brigg flashed Grillby a skeptical look, “And _they’re_ teaching _you_ strategy?”

Grillby gave a mortified spark, his flame turning through purples and reds. He wanted to scream at Brigg - No! No _do not_ criticize the escort from hell! Gods knew they were already going to be hard enough to deal with! But Brigg was already shifting his attention back to Ruke, the disgruntled monster glaring mightily up at him.

“Amathea was a good monster, and she cast a long shadow,” Brigg said past a breath of smoke, “This boy is her legacy. For _heaven’s sake_ don’t screw that up.”

Then Brigg turned back to Grillby again, offering the elemental a hand to shake, which Grillby did with a questioning flicker.

“It’s been a privilege working with you,” Brigg rumbled, “You know where to find me if you need me.”

With that he turned and left, leaving Grillby feeling both incredibly awkward and… touched. That was as close to praise as he figured the dragon monster ever got. Though he still found the entire display somewhat ridiculous. They’d be in the same camp all winter… Grillby would probably see the commander every day. Why bother with the fond farewell?

Grillby shook his head. Right. He needed to get to work.

Nervousness curling in his stomach, Grillby stepped past Ruke - the monster still stewing over everything Brigg had said - and strode towards his waiting unit. He _prayed_ his voice didn’t break when he spoke now. Hoped he didn’t end up sounding absolutely _ridiculous_. When he approached, he didn’t gather too much attention - only a few of the monsters gathered looked up to see him. But _all_ of their attention snapped to him when he spoke.

“Alright you loiter-sacks! Let’s get this morning started, shall we?”

Grillby’s voice carried, stern and a bit too quiet to be confident - but at least he didn’t sound _nearly_ as nervous as he felt. Raising his voice _did_ hurt the back of his throat though, whatever had gone wrong there that still hadn’t healed. He was beginning to worry that whatever he’d done was going to be permanent.

He _hoped_ not, with all the shouting he was going to be doing now.

“Commander Grillby, here to teach you how to stay alive,” he continued firmly, watching with mild satisfaction as the monsters’ attention stayed fixed on him. He didn’t _like_ being the center of attention, but at least he knew they were listening, “We’ve got a lot to do and only one winter to get it done in. So let’s go. Get in sparring pairs. Show me what you’ve got.”

There was a pause where no one moved. They all just blinked and stared at him as if they hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

“ _Or_ ,” Grillby did his best to pitch his voice like Amathea used to, trying to sound like that mischievous, fake pleasantry that she always mocked at when she was going to give him some terrible chore to do, “If you’re all too cold to get moving this morning we could run a few laps around camp?”

_This_ inspired some motion. Begrudging and _tired_ motion, but it was better than the stupidly vacant stares he’d been receiving previously. The monsters gathered in pairs and began their half-hearted sparring, grumbling and complaining the majority of the time they worked. And they were _rough_. Oh! They were _rough_. Brigg was right when he’d said they were _new_ recruits. These monsters barely seemed to know how to wave their magic around, let alone other necessary motions like dodging, timing their attacks, measuring their hits… And then there was _intent_ , a whole new problematic mechanic to throw into the mix. If these monsters didn’t _want_ to learn, didn’t _want_ to use their magic to survive? They wouldn’t.

Grillby sighed and shook his head as he watched them. Where… where did he even start? How did you _start_ teaching this kind of thing?

And how was it that the elemental who had only ever been taught war had no idea how to teach it himself? Heavens alive, this was discouraging already. Just _looking_ at them made Grillby feel lost, and he tried not to let it show too much in the colors of his flame.

Grillby huffed out a smoking sigh.

_Just watch them today,_ he told himself, _figure out who’s good at what_. _Go from there. One step at a time._

Grillby spent the day prowling around different sparring pairs. Watching. Trying to figure out how the monsters worked. He excused some to rest while he encouraged others to keep going. Sometimes he switched their partners. He poked, he prodded, he moved them around. He ranked them in his head from best to worst - which was probably something he shouldn’t do but he did anyway, just needed some way to catalogue the lot of them for now.

He tried to convince himself he could do this. He could train monsters.

They broke for lunch and evening chores - which for now just meant gathering firewood for the next few days and throwing garbage out of the camp’s marked boundaries. For as begrudging and sluggish as the group of monsters was, they were decently obedient. They grumbled and complained but they got their work done. That was promising. Right? It was a start at least… he guessed.

Oh gods, who was he kidding? He had _no idea_ what was good and what wasn’t. All he knew was Brigg’s unit did what he said unfailingly, and it was with the same obedience that Gerson had done what his commander had said. But Grillby had never known either of them when they were just starting out and getting a feel for the units they were training. He had _no idea_ how this was supposed to work.

At least Ruke left him alone for most of the day. That was a mixed blessing. It meant Grillby didn’t have to deal with the spiteful monster’s presence - but also meant Ruke had no respect for following the elementals orders. Just one more thing for Grillby to worry about, he supposed.

That evening he voiced all his concerns to Thetis as she set up his alphabet lesson for the night. She didn’t offer much by the way of advice - she’d never had to train anything! She wasn’t a commander. But she did reassure him that this was his first assignment ever, and it was probably normal if everything wasn’t perfect on the _first day_.

Grillby started the next day jolting awake from a nightmare, which was both jarring and… almost reassuring. It was the first one he could remember having in… weeks. The first one he’d had since he’d shut down. Maybe this meant, on some level, he was slipping back into some new version of normal. Well, whatever the case, he found he couldn’t really remember the dream upon waking. It was gone like sifting dust between his fingers, and he was glad he couldn’t remember it. Some part of his soul shivered with the knowledge that it had been a bad one, even as far as his nightmares went.

Grillby stumbled out of his tent well before dawn, burning the tiredness out of his body as best he could and melting frost with every step. He stoked the campfire and sat polishing weapons and maintaining armor, and worrying quietly to himself about how he was supposed to motivate his group of monsters into training. They were so _reluctant_. Like they didn’t want to be here - which Grillby could somewhat understand but… they _were_ here. And if they didn’t make good use of their time, they’d be dust in the first battle they were a part of. Grillby didn’t have to know any of them personally to think losing them would be tragic.

The sky was starting to brighten into blue when Ruke emerged from their tent, looking tired and disgruntled, sleep having ruffled their feathers away from their normal pristine care. When they emerged, Grillby thought for a second that maybe he should attempt… pleasant… morning conversation…? But he didn’t really know what to say… and Ruke would probably just shoot him down _anyway_ , so the elemental stayed silent. Ruke perched themselves close to the fire, a contented sigh worming its way out of their mouth as they slipped some paperwork from their inventory and started reading.

Huh. Grillby sort of figured a monster who used ice magic would find the cold… _nice._ He hadn’t imagined the bird monster would huddle so close to the fire for warmth.

“So,” Ruke suddenly piped, looking up from their paperwork, and Grillby’s flame sparked with tired interest, “Grillby the Mage-Slayer. You’ve had three escorts before me; the longest-running was Amathea. Summoned in winter - _weird_ for a fire elemental -”

“So I’ve heard,” Grillby said quietly, feeling a childish smirk color his flame when Ruke glared at him before continuing.

“- you’ve killed seven mages, no real record of instability. Managed to save the King’s life, _and_ threw up that convenient wall.”

They flashed Grillby a haughty, satisfied look, “Am I missing anything?”

Grillby blinked, flickering a frown. _He_ made the wall? The wall that kept the humans from fighting them again before winter? Whatever this _miracle wall_ was? When did he - ?

Then it hit him, and he felt himself turning in sickening greens and yellows. Oh… that… _that_ wall. After the battle. He hadn’t imagined… that would still be burning. Burning _weeks_ after he’d lit it. Gods above, how much of the countryside had he destroyed? How much was he _still_ destroying?

With a start of a spark Grillby realized Ruke was still watching him expectantly - and with increasing annoyance.

“Uh… _six_ mages,” Grillby corrected after a faltering second, “I’ve killed six mages, not seven. One got away.”

He slipped a thumb underneath the chain on his necklace and pulled it forward, flashing the little piece of ice in Ruke’s direction, “She gave me a nice souvenir though.”

Ruke’s feathers ruffled in surprise, “You’re wearing _human ice magic?!”_

Grillby shrugged, flickering a mild smile, “I was told it’d make for a good story. Maybe I’ll tell it to you sometime.”

Ruke didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Or really _care_ for that matter.

“Speaking of, you know, exchanging information,” Grillby hummed, reaching down to start stowing away the armor he’d been polishing in his inventory, “I know I haven’t been here for very long, but uh… I get the feeling that normally? If one monster wants to know more about the other, they tend to ask instead of running around collecting information behind their backs.”

Grillby shrugged, “I’ve got nothing to hide and no problem answering questions.”

_Heaven’s knew Gaster had drilled that out of him._

Ruke let out some disgruntled noise through their closed beak and responded, “You’re an elemental,” as if that explained away everything. Grillby tried not to let his annoyance creep into his voice, though it definitely colored his flame. He could already feel the change in heat.

“And one with an _incredible memory_ at that,” Grillby muttered, hissed out a sigh of smoke and then stood, “Alright. Let’s get this morning started.”

Grillby glanced up at the sky. It was dark out still, but blue was tingeing the horizon. They had time to get a run in before the mess tents started serving breakfast. It would be cold and kind of miserable, but it was a habit they needed to get into soon anyway. Even if they couldn’t keep it up all winter. So Grillby moved about his tiny corner of camp, getting his unit awake and moving. He had to force himself to shout, to talk loud and rough. It felt weird and unnatural. It felt like he was child _pretending_ he was a commander. He must’ve sounded convincing enough though, because muttering and complaining his little unit came to life.

When he announced they were going for a run, however, they were less than hesitant. They were outright resistant. They crowded together, all frowning disjointedly. The monsters without fur or fire magic for themselves were rubbing cold limbs, tiredly huddling together to keep warm. Of course, if they just _got moving_ they would start warming up on their own. But they were having none of it. One monster in particular stepped forward, a cat monster with a stubborn twitch in her tail, and stated outright what all the other monsters’ intent was already echoing in Grillby’s direction.

“We are _not_ running in _this_ weather,” she rumbled, her magic a strange mix of resistant and timid, “It’s too cold.”

Grillby shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant and confident even in spite of the nervous smoke he sputtered with every word, “And if humans - by some miracle - stormed the camp while it’s snowing out, what then? Are you going to politely ask them to come back in the spring?”

“Humans hate the cold more than monsters do!” Someone Grillby couldn’t see piped up in the back, earning a few grumbled words of agreement.

Grillby felt his nervousness building in the pit of his stomach again. Oh. _Brilliant_. How was he supposed to _force_ them into doing this? What happened if he _couldn’t?_ Well… he’d prove to Ruke he definitely couldn’t handle this, for starters. And then there was, once again, the fact that these monsters needed to be trained if they were going to live through the war - a fact that already seemed to have escaped them.

“And I suppose,” Grillby hummed, “Telling you you’ll need this in the future won’t get me anywhere, will it?”

There was no real response, but the feel of their intent was telling. Oh _gods_ what did he do about this? Well… he _certainly_ wasn’t giving up already. That wasn’t really an option. What would Ammy do? Probably something reckless and intimidating.

Reckless... and intimidating…

Okay then.

Grillby waved a hand and a circle of fire opened up around him, arching forward and separating the girl who had stepped forward from the rest of the group. Her fur stood on end frantically.

“What - ?!”

“So! None of you want to run, then? Alright, I’m flexible. We can do something with different,” Grillby said as smoothly as he could manage, pitching his flame a little brighter and hotter as he spoke, “How about you and me spar then? You win, nobody has to run this morning and we’ll all be _that much more_ useless when the humans come. If _I_ win we’re doing… hmm… I think we can manage three laps around camp before the mess opens. Maybe four, if we _really_ hurry.”

The girl looked back at the monsters behind her for help and none was offered, just pensive stares back and forth. But she couldn’t back out of the circle, not with how hot and angry the flames looked. Grillby didn’t really have any intent behind them. If she _wanted to_ , she could probably leap through without so much as a single hp out of place. But she was a bit too frantic at the moment to realize that.

“But - but you’re an elemental!” she said finally, and Grillby flickered a smirk, “I _can’t_ win a spar against you.”

Grillby crossed his arms. If he had eyebrows to raise, he was sure he would have, “You can knock me off my feet, can’t you?

The girl blinked at him.

“Whoever gets pushed out of the circle first, wins the spar,” Grillby said with a shrug, and then added with a little more spite and annoyance, “Or you can jump out now and stop wasting my time.”

_This_ finally got her moving. There was a ripple in the cold air as she summoned her magic. Grillby already knew where this was going - he’d watched her and the others spar all yesterday, after all. She was an agile fighter, and she would probably be leaps and bounds faster than he was. But she was also clumsy and untrained, and had no way to measure her intent against something like Grillby.

Her magic passed through him with little more than a shiver from the elemental. He could feel her confusion and worry as it passed through him. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. But she was also persistent and stubborn. For a few seconds, Grillby wished he had blue magic. Then he could just… pick her up and gently place her outside his circle of fire. He definitely didn’t want to burn her half to dust just to get her to leave the circle.

But he also needed to prove a point.

So Grillby crossed his arms a bit condescendingly and said in a voice that was… a bit softer than he wanted it to be, “I haven’t moved.”

She frowned and hit him again, this time with more annoyance and intent - but with the same results. When she attacked again, Grillby intentionally took a step back, some small plan setting itself up in the back of his mind. Again she hit, and again he took a casual step back. Again. And again. Until he was standing on the very edge of his circle, and then he stopped, and no amount of blustering or exasperation on her end could move him. He just stood and waited as the magic passed through him.

Until her exasperation was a little too much, and she decided to physically push him the rest of the way out of the circle. When she ran at him Grillby smirked. He shuffled a foot forward and pivoted out of her way, letting her dance right past him and out of the circle - careful to fan the flames a bit lower and cooler as she passed through. She blinked at him from outside, a bit dumbfounded but otherwise resigned to the fact that she’d lost in one of the… well… dumbest ways possible.

“Well, that was fun,” Grillby hummed with a forced sort of pleasantry, looking out at the rest of his little unit, “Would anyone else like to try? Or should we start running?”

It was an open invitation, and of course a few other monsters took it. But most of them were already starting to get the inkling of a feeling that… this really wasn’t all that fair of a bargain for them in the first place. One after another Grillby forced them out of the circle. It was an act of will for him not to use his magic. There was a reflex there that told him he should be summoning more fire and retaliating. But he had to admit he was at an unfair advantage as far as how much magic he had and how hard it hit. And besides, he didn’t want to hurt them anyway. Just give them a good reason to listen when he started talking.

Finally, it seemed the last of the resistance in his group was sent sprawling out of his circle. Grillby assembled his monsters in rank and file, and with a barked order, they ran. In the end, they were late for breakfast, but Grillby figured that would just teach them a lesson for tomorrow morning. Going when they were asked was a hell of a lot easier on the group than standing around in the cold for an hour beforehand.

That day also marked the start of their _official_ training, with Grillby passing on everything he remembered from what Amathea had told him. How the different attacks could be put into categories; swords, spears, hammers and shields. How they could be combined and used to do something other than… well… really the meager best they had now. Grillby felt weird teaching them this. He was still learning it himself!

But they were learning.

Days were passing and they were learning.

And when he introduced them to physical weapons instead of just using their magic, they learned those as well.

Clumsily.

Slowly.

Day by day.

And it was good to watch them. It was good to give them bits of information and watch them take it and run. It was good to worry about them. And to worry about being a commander. And to try and juggle being a commander with learning strategy from Brigg, and spelling from Thetis. Every day the sun rose and set. The stars turned in the sky and time kept moving. And either against his will or with it, Grillby kept moving as well. He stayed busy. He wasn’t allowed to worry for too long about himself. Or even about Ruke, who mostly kept out of his way and watched from afar. Slinking around. _Waiting_ for something.

It seemed like Grillby just woke up one day and snow was falling, and the King was meeting with him, and telling him his unit was doing well.

And that something still needed to be done about the humans trapped on their side of the wall, if Grillby and his monsters would so kindly take on the task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back and slightly less dismal than when I left.   
> Yay?
> 
> Still stressed all to heck, BUT finals are now over (which is a weird thing to type, since I'm queuing this on Tuesday, when I still very much have finals to take) and the world is a little better now.


	54. The family that sits around the campfire together... probably has a lesser chance of dying at some point? I dunno.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grillby does his best to be a good commander
> 
> And Terros is kinda annoyed with it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart Feature :D  
> Hi hello yes I am no longer queued so I can do this thing ahaha. Sorry for missing some of these last week! I was in a bit of a rush!
> 
> So we have a couple pieces by ProcrastinatingBookworm on Tumblr :3 It is mostly some really interesting [soul](http://procrastinatingbookworm.tumblr.com/post/154399071997/theblogofcastingrain-a-sketch-from-chapter-27)[art.](http://procrastinatingbookworm.tumblr.com/post/154699367297/some-casting-rain-watercolor-soul-art?) As well as a very painful short fic called ["Yes Mom"](http://bookworm-writing-corner.tumblr.com/post/154592712356/yes-mom-a-casting-rain-fanfiction). :'D Why must you make me feel this pain and guilt?
> 
> And we have a couple from Kakurosu, with their awesome colored pencil skills my god.  
> One is from Chapter 50[, and I don't know how I missed it because I remember seeing it and thinking I linked it, but apparently I did not, so I apologize for that!](http://kakurosu.deviantart.com/art/Casting-rain-Boss-monsters-and-foot-soldiers-648494016)  
> The second is from last chapter, when[Grillby decided to be awesome and show off his commander... awesomeness... right.](http://kakurosu.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-Ch-53-Tribute-652094296)
> 
> And last but not least! Loumun-Versen is back again with [that one scene from chapter 28 when Gaster and Grillby were still together and friends and the world was still terrifying but a little nicer.](http://loumun-versen.deviantart.com/art/UT-Thanks-heavens-652105759)
> 
> Also please excuse me for like... destroying my links this time around good lord. I'll have to check these better next time.

The next day was a rush of action as Grillby tried to prepare his unit. Their first assignment. They’d been given their first assignment. Grillby didn’t know whether he should be excited or mortified. Were they ready? Probably not. Oh gods, probably not. And from the looks on the faces of his monsters when he told them, they obviously didn’t think they were ready either. There had been a soft chorus of misgivings, mostly clipped short when Grillby started giving instruction on what to pack and why.

But… the task sounded simple. If all else failed, Grillby should be able to keep them safe, right? Assuming of course that it didn’t snow much more than it already had. There was only enough of the stuff to put a thin coating of white across the horizon, enough to be inconvenient and somewhat miserable but not quite enough to worry Grillby into oblivion. Not _yet_ anyway. And hopefully the skies stayed relatively clear for them as they went.

Grillby was relieved though to know his wasn’t the only unit being sent out. Terros was going in his direction as well. There were two known outposts that needed reclaiming, and apparently Asgore thought it wise to send the two elementals out to take care of them. Ora was being sent towards the south, her monsters scouting further from the wall and closer to the Capital, investigating claims about human raiders appearing around there. Grillby… kind of wanted to switch her places honestly. It would be a hell of  a lot easier to track down raiders in the snow than it would be to take back a fortified outpost. Not _too much_ easier, he guessed. But still, easier.

But this way at least, Grillby had some company on the trip out. Or at least - company he knew somewhat personally. Terros might not be quite the basket of roses as far as companionship went, but he was familiar to Grillby. _Safe_ to talk to, as weird as something like that seemed.

They walked together as they left camp, their monsters taking with them only what they could carry in their inventory as far as camp supplies and rations went. If all went well with their small campaign, they should be back within a week, two at the most. For the first few days of it, Grillby and Terros could afford the luxury of walking together.

The wind had a bite to it as they walked, though thankfully the weather stayed pleasant - as far as winter went at least. The breeze stayed mild and soft, the snow was thin.

Just the small layer of the frigid stuff turned the landscape into it’s own, muffled sort of wasteland. Grillby remembered it just barely from his first winter. How snow seemed to both kill and enhance every sound that was made, smothering it in some ways and spreading it about the landscape in others. It coated every inch of the horizon in blues and greys, colors that muffled the natural contours of trees, rocks and hillsides and turned them into an amalgamate shape, something both shifting and similar. As if the entire world were blurred just slightly. Things that were once familiar looked warped and foreign - but not altogether unpleasant. It was like the entire world had been coated in glass.

Terros noticed Grillby watching the landscape, and hummed in his dissonant voice, “Is the snow making you nervous?”

Grillby flickered a smirk, “Not really. It probably should, I guess. But it’s mostly just pretty.”

“Pretty _annoying_ is what it is,” Terros said with a scoff, “All it does is settle on you and freeze.”

“I thought you couldn’t feel cold?”

The stone elemental shrugged, “No, not really. But _cold_ isn’t the problem.”

Terros rolled up one of his sleeves, showing off the rock underneath. He ran his hand across the rough surface.

“Ice gets in all those little cracks and makes them bigger,” Terros explained with a shrug, “It’s just a little inconvenient at first. But if we let it go too long it’ll start hurting, and getting worse until larger cracks form.”

Terros rolled his sleeve back down, “I didn’t take it too seriously my first winter and almost lost an arm.”

Grillby sparked a flinch, “ _What?_ That sounds awful!”

Grillby’s core squirmed just _thinking_ about it. Just imagining what that would look like, what it would _feel like_ , to have some part of him slowly ripped apart by ice. He couldn’t suppress a shudder.

“At first it just itched a little, so I didn’t worry about it,” Terros continued, his voice strangely casual and unconcerned, “But by the end of the week it was hurting like all hell. It’s weird to me that more monsters don’t worry about stuff like that, really. But most monsters make their own heat I guess, somehow or another. They don’t have to worry about water constantly freezing on them and just… _staying_ there.”

He piped a dissonant, chiming laugh when he noticed the sickened green in Grillby’s flame, “Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s pretty easy to take care of. I’ve just got to stay bundled up, and make sure I don’t have any ice on me by the end of the night.”

Grillby made a mental note to stick a little closer and warmer beside Terros when they made camp.

“I’m worried about Ora though,” Terros continued, his opal eyes flickering in anxious color, “I warned her about it before we left but… I mean…”

He sighed out a heavy breath, “She doesn’t need anything making her leg worse, you know?”

Grillby managed a reassuring flicker, “Ora knows how to take care of herself.”

“I _know_ ,” a little annoyance crept into Terros’ voice, “But I can still _worry_ about her.”

Grillby shrugged and let the conversation drop there. He could understand Terros’ worry. He was probably scared of losing the last of his family. It made sense. Grillby didn’t know how to respond to it, but it made sense.

The day continued like that, hours of walking broken by tired bits of conversation as the day progressed. It was a miserable walk for most of the monsters there. There was a cool breeze going that tugged at their clothes and bit at their faces. Ruke seemed to be the only monster aside from Grillby who was completely unaffected by the chill - for obvious reasons. Even the furred monsters gave a cold shiver now and again.

While they walked, Grillby kept a wary eye on Ruke and Terros’ escort. Watching to see if they were anything alike. He honestly didn’t know what to expect from the two of them. Half of him wanted the reassurance of knowing Terros was being treated the same way, that on some level the rough treatment was normal and Grillby didn’t have to take it personally. He saw nothing telling though. The two monsters only occasionally talked, and for the most part just coexisted begrudgingly, as if they were only together because they shared the barest of things in common. Neither of them approached the elementals through the day, and Grillby asked Terros how training with his escort had gone, he’d gotten sparing answers.

They started looking for a camp long before the sun went down, and in the end Grillby and Terros ended up making it themselves. The two elementals were an interesting team as far as that was concerned. It took a matter of seconds for Terros to erect them a sheltering wall, something to block out the wind and bounce the warmth of their fire back in towards them instead of letting the heat escape into the world beyond. Grillby cleared them a spot in the snow. It took a few bursts of flame, but he managed to give them something decently dry.

Once a few tents were set up and bedrolls unraveled, it was almost luxurious. A little _cramped_ with two dozen monsters all meandering around such a small space, but it was definitely a better quality than most other camps would be this time of year. It was warm and comfortable,

Whether out of habit or kindness or just because he needed something to do, Grillby cooked them all dinner that night. It was better than eating cold travel rations - something Grillby didn’t particularly care about but he knew the other monsters in his unit would appreciate. He was met by more than a few weird stares when he started working - even from Ruke and Terros. Grillby wanted to think it was because commanders didn’t normally cook but… at this point he knew better. It was _weird_ to see an elemental doing anything… domestic. Anything _normal_.

Grillby sighed out a breath of smoke - maybe someday he’d _make it normal_. For him, if for no one else.

The unsettled stares only got more intense when they all sat down to eat. Grillby stayed beside Terros, content to finish the night in comfortable silence. Which was nearly impossible when almost every monster there kept giving him weird sideways glances. It took longer than it should have for Grillby to realize _why_. He to glance at one of the nearby monsters who was outright _staring_ at him.

“I have a mouth,” Grillby said, loud enough for the others around the circle to hear, “Under the fire? That’s why I can eat.”

“O-oh,” came the somewhat awkward, reply, “I was… kinda wondering.”

The ring of monsters shifted a bit, relaxing and murmuring a little bit. There was a sense of satisfaction and curiosity in their magic. Oh right, that makes sense. _Of course_ he has a face under the fire somewhere. Grillby stifled a chuckle. It was… kind of funny watching all of them puzzle over him. Conspicuous and uncomfortable, but also just… funny. In a naive and childish, almost silly sort of way.

Hesitantly he spoke up, trying to sound more confident than he actually felt about all of this, “We’re about to do a lot of fighting together. If you’ve got any questions, now would be the time to ask them.”

There was another ripple through the collective magic in the space - conflicting between Terros’ overwhelming annoyance, and the building curiosity of the monsters around them. There was a long pause where looked between monsters were exchanged, questions were muttered back and forth, and Terros wrapped up Grillby in a bitter glare. Grillby stubbornly ignored it. He was more concerned with the inquisitive stare Ruke was flashing in his direction - expressionless and hungry, searching for something.

“Do you really kill mages?” squeaked someone on the far side of the fire, catching up Grillby’s attention.

“Yes.”

“How many have you fought?”

Grillby tilted his head at Terros, motioning with his hand for the stone elemental to join him in answering. Begrudgingly, Terros scowled.

“Two,” he grumbled, “But I didn’t kill either of them.”

“Several,” was all Grillby cared to answer, “Only one has gotten away from me.”

“Do you really not take any damage?”

“For the most part,” Grillby shrugged, “Ice and water get nasty for me.”

He blinked down at the fire they all sat around, “And… I always figured wind might do something if there was enough of it.”

Grillby let out a grim laugh, “No mage has ever tried anything like that though.”

Terros didn’t answer the question, and Grillby had them moving on before anyone could press the stone elemental any further. Some lighter questions were asked. Does everything taste like ash to you? Do you have a whole body underneath your fire or is some of it just fire? Do you like the cold? Can you actually _feel_ anything? Grillby felt both tense and relieved while answering. Eventually the conversation made its way back to mages again, and Grillby winced a bit against it.

Are mages really as powerful as people say they are? Did they really kill the King before Asgore? Is their magic like ours is?

What’s the scariest mage you’ve ever seen? The most powerful spell?

That gave Grillby an uncomfortable pause, and after a few minutes of him sitting and thinking, he could feel uncertainty start to weave itself into the air. Grillby was quite surprised when it was Terros who broke the silence.

“The scariest mage I’ve ever seen was the one that killed His Highness,” he said with solemn confidence, “And they had the most powerful magic I’ve ever faced. It was a blinding light, and it destroyed everything, humans and monsters alike.”

“Mages like that are few and far in between though,” Grillby said reassuringly, wincing against the fear starting to drive through their magic-filled atmosphere, “I’ve seen a lot of mages, and none of them like that. Well… except for this one.”

Grillby slipped his necklace off and tossed it to one of the monsters nearby, who caught the little piece of magic and stared down at it questioningly.

“ _That_ ,” Grillby said, clearing his throat and trying to sound a bit less grim, “Was the one that got away.”

“But… this is ice magic,” they hummed, “Doesn’t this hurt you or something?”

Grillby shrugged, “Just stings if I hold it for too long.”

He flickered a bit warmer, “It was a lot more of a pest when it was stuck in me though.”

The apprehension that had curled its way across the gathered soldiers was turning into something kinder, something more like excitement and intrigue. Which was good. He didn’t need these monsters fearful and doubting, not right before they were about to head into battle. He didn’t think there would be a mage out there, but if for some reason there _was_ , he needed them all to know that they were safe. That Terros and Grillby could take care of them. Because they weren’t _just_ elementals, they were also _commanders_ , and it was their job to keep as many monsters alive as they could.

Grillby leaned in just slightly, something he’d seen Amathea do a thousand times before she launched into a tale, “ _That_ was an interesting fight. Up on a crumbling stone bridge, so high up half the monsters around me were getting sick from it, an ice mage staring me down…”

He paused just long enough for someone to ask.

“... what happened?”

“Well let me tell you.”

Grillby launched forward into his tale, trying to weave it into something fierce and awe-inspiring. Trying to sound like Amathea had whenever she threw forward her crazy stories. He wasn’t _nearly_ as good at it. His voice shivered and cracked once or twice. He wasn’t quite as emphatic or expressive, and his throat was burning by the time he was finished. But he kept their attention at least, and lifted their spirits. That was what he’d intended on doing.

Maybe that meant he was successful?

When his story finished, they settled in for the night, the camp buzzing with excited and tired energy, the night illuminated faintly by the haze of the wall off in the distance.

The next day they traveled together for another mile or so before the two groups split away from each other. The outpost Terros was supposed to be taking was a little farther towards the south. Grillby continued the last half of the journey alone, doing his best to inspire confidence where he could.

Evening came and with it, derelict and stark against the horizon, rose their destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise chapter attack! :D  
> Haha caught you guys off-guard didn't I? 
> 
> Might be back to double-chapters for the next few weeks until I'm back in school. Might not. I'm playing it by ear as far as time goes. :3  
> I hope I can keep this up though! I'm getting excited about the next few chapters. There's another event coming up that I've been dying for. This one not a part of the plan for nearly as long, as far as my conventional standards go. I'll tell you more about it when we get there, because BOY has this scene changed from when I first wanted to introduce it!
> 
> For now, let's get ready to rumble! There's gonna be some major awesome smackdown int he next chapter! Get your stock karate noises ready!
> 
> Ehehe. I'm excited.


	55. Well this is all going spectacularly and totally and completely according to plan and there is absolutely no way for my decisions to have bad repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grillby and Ruke finally have their outs  
> And kind of settle on a truce  
> Oh yeah, and the outpost! Ahaha we totally forgot we had to take care of that, didn't we?
> 
> Also Ruke is a sarcastic asshole and Grillby is honestly too tired to deal with this bullshit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffanart feature!  
> //dances in bright and Christmas-y jingle bell hat, making a lot of annoying jingle-y noises//
> 
> In a beautiful twist of awesome and beautiful-ness, we have _two_ drawings of the scene from last chapter where Grillby is telling his story, and it warms my heart to see these things because that scene was a pleasant break from all of Grillby's bitter angsty teen phase-ness! 
> 
> Kidding of course, he has good reason to be upset. Anyway!
> 
> One is by the ever so awesome [Kakurosu on Deviantart](http://kakurosu.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-Campfire-Stories-652461190) and the other is by the cooler-than-cool [Procrastinatingbookworm](http://procrastinatingbookworm.tumblr.com/post/154791854317/more-colored-pencilwatercolor-art-for) on Tumblr. Who also threw a bunch of [watercolor sketches our way](http://procrastinatingbookworm.tumblr.com/post/154804924452/some-colored-pencilwatercolor-doodles-including) of various CR things. And please forgive me if I forgot to link something here for you bro because you're constantly making new things for this! And I'm afraid I might forget something, since it's been proven I've done so in the past.
> 
> Guys just kick me if you think I missed ya, seriously. I do not mind at all. You guys deserve to have your art seen by like, anyone I could possibly show it to. Ahaha I'm not too incredibly popular on the interwebz, so I might not be able to do much, but it is what I can do! And I appreciate all of you.

The outpost wasn’t really all that much to look at. It was made for functionality and nothing else - though Grillby did have to admit it was intimidating enough while silhouetted against the dying landscape. Just a looming mass in the night that occasionally reflected firelight off of one snow-covered corner or another. It was a meager handful of buildings, one high and stilted so it could look out at the world around it, hedged on both sides by two smaller cabins to house whoever was stationed there. Even from the distant treeline, Grillby could see their campfires flickering.

The tricky thing about taking the outpost was, well, it was _made_ to see them coming. Raised up on stilts in the only clear patch of land for miles, and if the humans guarding it were smart they’d constantly have a shift looking out for trouble. They knew they were isolated from their main armies, in a precarious waiting game with Grillby’s wall, the deepening winter, and the monster army. And Grillby didn’t want to risk the chance that they could still call for help. He doubted there’d be any overwhelming force in the area, but they _could_ set off a beacon, tip off Terros’ outpost that monsters were coming. Grillby would be devastated if a mistake on his end cost Terros his unit.

In a perfect world, Grillby would just stand back by the treeline and fire off some of his lances. If he could bring down the tower, a lot of their problems would be solved. There’d be no way of calling for long-range help, it would be harder for the humans to see them coming… and when faced with a monster that could tear down a building, the humans might just surrender without a fight. But if they wanted to take the outpost and _use it_ , they needed it to still be intact - or at the very least repairable.

Grillby huffed out a weary sigh from his perch by the treeline. This was going to be difficult.

He flickered a wan smile. If Thetis were here she could just wrap them up in an illusion and solve all their problems. Too bad no monsters here knew illusion magic.

Speaking of magic…

Grillby finally turned away from the outpost and began meandering back to their camp, not daring to pull his hood away from his flame until he was well out of sight.

Their little camp - if it could even be called that - was much  more miserable than it had been the night before. The fire they managed to light on the damp ground was small, barely enough to provide the heat they needed, and tonight Grillby didn’t bother with cooking. They’d tied up one of the tents to use as a windbreaker of sorts, but hadn’t bothered pitching the rest of their tents yet. They didn’t know how long they could stay here.

All heads turned in his direction when he returned; some gazes were expectant, intent and excited, others were nervous. Almost fearful.

“Can anyone use green magic?” Grillby asked, flickering a tired frown at the murmured answers he got back. He had one monster in the group who could use green magic. That wouldn’t bode well for them. He should’ve thought about that before they left! He couldn’t requested some sort of healer be added to the unit.

Well, this would have to do, he guessed.

He pulled the monster aside to try and prepare them at least a little for what he was assigning them to do. They were a rather small dragon monster, thin and frail, and Grillby had never once seen them so much as breathe a puff of smoke. When he asked them to show him their magic, they offered up a pale and flickering water-droplet shaped attack. It seemed a little weak and uneasy, but it was definitely green, and that would work.

Grillby took a few minutes to run them through everything Gaster had ever said about healing. Some of it was hard to remember. Mostly he just reminded the monster that they would exhaust themselves if they weren’t careful, and instructed them to stay back away from the actual fighting if they could. He’d need them strong if they were going to help any wounded after the fighting ended. He turned to dismiss them, only to flicker a mild smile when they asked a final question.

“Uh… for healing you sir,” they asked somewhat nervously, “Is it any different than healing anyone else?”

Grillby blinked down at them, a confused frown sparking around him, “You don’t heal me.”

When they flashed him a surprised look he explained, “My soul is bigger than any monster’s here - you’d probably exhaust yourself trying to fix something wrong with it. If something happens, heal everyone else here before you bother with me.”

That just seemed to make them look that much more worried. Grillby shifted on his feet somewhat awkwardly. He’d gotten a little unused to monsters worrying about his wellbeing.

“Or... build a fire, I guess,” he allowed finally, “I’ll heal myself.”

Grillby didn’t bother explaining how that worked. They didn’t really need to know, and he wasn’t sure he could really explain it right anyway. Grillby meandered his way over to Ruke, the only monster in camp besides Grillby himself who didn’t seem completely miserable in the snow. He stopped in front of the icy monster, who seemed perfectly content to ignore the fact that Grillby was standing there.

The elemental rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this.

Grillby took a second to sketch out in the snow the setup of the camp, something he’d seen Brigg and Amathea do sometimes when looking over a problem. At some point _this_ got Ruke’s attention. Well, that was good at least.

“Any ideas?” Grillby asked after he was finished, motioning to the terribly drawn schematic.

Ruke chirped a derisive laugh, “Aren’t _you_ the commander?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Grillby hummed, doing his best to at least _sound_ unfazed even with his patience rapidly wearing thin, “But _you’re_ my advisor right? I’m asking for advice.”

Ruke glared up at him, small eyes glinting suspiciously in the dim light. Or maybe that was just Grillby’s light reflecting back at him. That would be the _nicer_ alternative at least.

“The best thing I’ve thought of,” Grillby continued with a smoke-filled sigh, “Is making some sort of distraction. If we can split the group in half somehow and grab the humans’ attention on one side, the other half of us can sweep through and catch them from behind. But I’m worried about our numbers. I’ve got no idea how many humans are in the outpost, and I don’t like the idea of possibly losing half the unit to a failed distraction.”

Grillby jabbed a thumb in the direction of his tower sketch, “And then there’s that thing. There’s a beacon up there. If we’re not fast enough they might call for help, or at the very least warn the other outpost that monsters are out here.”

Ruke’s expression twitched, and Grillby liked to pretend he was suppressing some look of respect at his forethought.

“Why even bother with all of this?” Ruke asked, their voice much more severe than Grillby cared for, “Why put all these monsters in danger _needlessly_ when you could take that outpost _all by yourself?_ ”

Grillby flickered a frown. He _had_ thought of that.

“Because this isn’t about me,” he answered cooly, “This is our measure for these monsters here. This is how we tell they’re ready for _actual_ fighting. I won’t be able to protect everyone on an open battlefield when there’s a thousand humans coming for us. They shouldn’t rely on my protecting them now. It’ll just make us weaker in the long run.”

Ruke looked away from him then, casting their gaze back down to the drawing. They tilted their head to the side..

Finally they muttered stubbornly, “It’s a good plan.”

Grillby let out a soft breath of smoke. _Really?_

“This is supposed to be a small outpost,” Ruke continued, “It can only hold about a dozen men. They could squeeze in more, but it would be cramped and uncomfortable… and knowing humans? Probably _diseased_.”

They shifted on their back feet, their front two spindly legs coming up to play with one of their long wing feathers as they talked. Their voice was a thoughtful hum, one gilded with ice magic and bitterness. But they _were_ being helpful. _Finally_.

“They don’t know you exist yet,” Ruke frowned, “Fill the distraction group with monsters with bright, flashy attacks. Let the humans get caught up in how dangerous it looks. And if you stay with the second group, you could stand to put more with the first.”

They flashed Grillby a withering glare, “You’re worth half a unit on your own anyway.”

For some reason, that statement made Grillby feel gross and small. Like somehow in the span of a few words he’d been reduced to nothing more than a handful of magic. It made his soul feel uncomfortable in his chest.

“If you attack an hour or two before dawn, you’ll catch them when their night watch is tired - and probably before their day watch is even awake yet. That would be the best time.”

“What about the tower?” Grillby asked, trying to shove away the previous squirming feeling.

Ruke tilted their head at it, scrutinizing the drawing of the stilted outpost tower, their frown ever deepening. They fluffed their wings a bit, measuring something in their thoughts before finally saying.

“I can deal with it. While your first group is moving forward I’ll fly-”

“There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell you’re doing that,” Grillby snapped.

Ruke’s feathers stood on end and they gave an indignant huff, “ _Excuse_ me? You think I can’t handle one or two humans in a tower?”

“I think you can’t handle anything,” Grillby answered with a steely growl, “I’ve seen you use magic _once_ , and it wasn’t exactly impressive.”

Grillby felt a very noticeable drop in temperature, quick and cold enough to send a prickling itch through his core. Well, _that_ was promising at least.

“ _My magic_ is _perfect_ ,” Ruke hissed vehemently, “If it _wasn’t_ , they wouldn’t have put me in charge of escorting _an elemental_. If I can turn _you_ to dust, I can kill a human.”

Grillby flickered into the deeper, scowling reds. He was starting to feel jittery and nervous. Half of him really wanted to just drop this. _Fine_. Let Ruke try their luck up there. Let them dust themselves for all he cared! But if Ruke was killed, it wasn’t just _Ruke’s life_ on the line. They had no idea how many humans might be on this side of the wall. If that beacon went off, _anything_ could happen. It could mean dust-worthy trouble for Grillby’s unit, and possibly Terros’ as well. This was bigger than just one monster’s bitter arguing.

It might just be Grillby being paranoid but… he didn’t want to risk it.

“I’m not putting the life of _my_ unit in the hands of a monster I haven’t even _seen_ use magic,” Grillby growled back with stubborn resolve, “I’ll find another way of doing this.”

Well, if he wasn’t on Ruke’s bad side, he was on it now. The bird monster looked murderous, and their intent was just shy of it. The air was frozen with their anger. Just breathing it was starting to sting Grillby’s throat, which was annoying given how sore it already was after their arguing. Frost threatened to creep it’s way across Grillby’s armor, and the elemental fanned himself a little warmer to stave it off.

“Spar with me,” Grillby finally allowed, trying to keep a nervous sigh out of his voice, “If you’re half as good as you _think_ you are, you can go ahead and grab the tower.”

“And why should I do a _thing_ you say?” Ruke spat, their voice an angry and quiet whisper, “ _I_ am the escort here. _You_ should be listening to _me._ You should be _afraid of me_ , if you know what’s good for you.”

Grillby paused, his growing annoyance and anger pitching his flame closer to blue and white. There were _a thousand_ reasons why Ruke should listen to him - not the least being that Grillby was _supposed to be_ his commander. Ruke might be the escort, but Asgore had said when he first offered _all of this_ that the escorts were subordinate. There to help and take orders and - if need be - dispel. _Grillby_ was the authority. Obviously Ruke didn’t agree, and never had, and probably never would.

Grillby flickered a scowl, “I’m _not_ scared of you.”

 _Gods_ it was cold.

“I have no reason to be,” Grillby continued slowly, stifling a wince at the pain building in his throat, “I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m _well_ within my authority. And I’m _not_ unstable. There is no reason for you to be a threat to me - you’re an inconvenience at best. _Now_. You can either stay here while I figure out an alternative, or you can prove me wrong in a spar and throw yourself at that tower as much as you want.”

There was a heavy, stifling pause where Grillby had to seriously wonder if Ruke was trying to suffocate him with the cold. It felt like it was creeping in on him from every angle, silent, intent-filled claws that bristled in the darkness. It pricked and crawled like pins and needles against his core, made his armor painfully cold, even through the clothing he wore beneath it. Then like a sigh of breath the intent dropped out of the air and Ruke was storming past Grillby.

Grillby blinked after them, both relieved and confused. So… did that mean they were sparring? Probably.

Ruke got to work on clearing them a space to spar in - which mostly consisted of shoving everyone and everything to one side of the little clearing they’d made camp in. The monsters were confused and indignant, but did as they were told when they noticed Grillby helping. Within a matter of minutes Grillby and Ruke were standing across from each other in a makeshift sparring circle. And Grillby was nervous.

Oh gods, just _what_ had he gotten himself into? He knew better than this. Ruke was an _escort_. Of course they could fight just fine. And now he was about to get himself beaten half to dust because he’d decided to question that. You know what? He probably deserved that for being stupid enough to argue over all of this. He should have just trusted… he…

Grillby huffed out an angry sigh. No, this was a good decision. He had _no reason_ to trust Ruke’s word on anything. It was time the little escort proved they could actually do everything they kept threatening. And besides, Grillby was quickly growing tired of being spat at and treated like he was inferior. Even if this turned out to be a painful mistake, he could at least make sure Ruke remembered he was a force to be reckoned with. Prove he was here for _a reason_.

“Alright, rules,” Grillby said firmly, “All attacks stay inside the circle, we stop when one or both of us get to half hp - and no cheap shots.”

Ruke nodded.

“Right,” Grillby sighed out a breath of smoke and sparks. He flicked his way through his inventory, searching for his sword and shield.

“No, you’re fighting your _escort,_ ” Ruke snapped, cutting Grillby off halfway through his search, “You’re using your magic.”

Grillby cast a wary look in the direction of the watchtower. They were a decent walk away from it, and surrounded by trees. If he could keep his attacks low, they wouldn’t be spotted. Probably. Maybe. _Hopefully_. This idea was getting worse by the second.

While his inventory was open though, Grillby went about unequipping his armor, leaving him with his regular tunic underneath. Ruke scowled.

“ _What_ are you doing?”

“You’re not wearing armor,” Grillby said as casually as he could manage, “For fairness’ sake I probably shouldn’t either.”

“I don’t _need_ armor.”

Right. Of course they didn’t. Grillby sighed, trying to sooth some of the tightness growing in his chest. Ruke was either the most arrogant monster Grillby had ever met - _or_ Grillby was about to be put in his place. Maybe both.

With a nod from Grillby, the spar began.

For a few seconds, nothing happened other than a general chill crawling it’s way across their circle. Then with a flicker of movement short spires of ice rippled across the ground towards Grillby. With a flick of his wrist, a wave of fire leapt up to meet them. The two waves of magic met and staggered out again, collapsing into magic and steam. Another wave of ice, a little higher and more intent lurched forward. Grillby met it again. And then a third when it was sent forward as well.

Ruke was just testing, maybe trying to figure out how strong Grillby was. They were keen and watchful when the magics came forward, frowning and scrutinizing every movement. Grillby felt every bit tense and uncomfortable. The way the attacks collided and dispersed reminded him too much of his last battle against the mage. It sent phantom feelings of dread creeping through his core, a sick feeling in his chest that was increasingly hard to ignore. It gave him one more reason to want to just back out of the circle and end their spar right there.

The next wave of ice came forward, immediately followed by a burst of hail from the sky. Grillby met the wave again and sidestepped around their sparring circle, letting the hail fall past him harmlessly. The attacks were purposefully slow and easy to maneuver around, more of Ruke’s testing. The escort sent a few more weaving attacks forward, things that Grillby either countered or dodged. It was with a start that Grillby realized as the final wave came forward, it suddenly lurched and sped faster towards him.

Grillby barely managed to meet it with fire in time, and then leaped out of the way as more of that icy hail was cast forward before the magic of his last attack even had time to settle. And then suddenly there was ice everywhere, stabbing up out of the ground at his feet, crackling in reaching mist that rested on his armor and stung his throat, clawing dagger-like fingers down from the sky.

Grillby surged forward his fire in response, burning in bright hot whites and blues and he tried to stave off the pressing cold. It kept the frost off of him for the most part, and with his own attacks he managed to tear apart the spires that arranged themselves around his feet. It was the hail that was too much for him to account for. Grillby braced himself, arms held in front of his face to hopefully shield himself from a bit of it. He winced back a step as it clawed down at him and - !

\- was surprised... in an underwhelming sort of way.

It _stung_. Like little tiny needles scratching across his core, pestering away a few of his hp with every hit. But… this wasn’t… _mage_ magic. This wasn’t the soul rending, screaming, shuddering pain that every part of his being had been expecting. And it was no fault of Ruke’s. Grillby could feel _every inch_ of Ruke’s bitter intent showering down with their magic. But Ruke was a _monster_ , not a determined, magic-wielding human. They weren’t the kind of creature that could punch a hole through Grillby’s core with a single spear of ice, or yank away his hp in leaps and bounds.

Ruke was just a monster. Grillby was _so used_ to expecting differently. At some point he’d decided _all_ ice magic was mage magic. It was a strange thing to realize, and some part of Grillby’s soul relaxed at the realization.

The burst of hail stopped and Ruke took a breath to rest, probably trying to decide how to cast their magic next and size up the damage they’d already done. That’s when Grillby sent his answering attacks forward, measured in waves of fire about their feet and half-heartedly formed lances pressing forward. With a flutter of their wings Ruke dodged, leaping neatly over the flames, haloed in the soft yellows and oranges of their color as it glanced close beneath their sweeping feathers. Their wings gave a flare, and with it came a rush of bitter, biting and ice-coated wind that tore apart the lances Grillby threw before they could land a hit.

Ruke was more than capable of holding their own.

“Alright, that’s good,” Grillby called across the circle, cutting Ruke off before they could summon another attack, “I’ve seen enough.”

Ruke stamped his front two legs on the ground somewhat indignantly, “ _What?”_

“There’s no use wasting away our magic and time when you can obviously handle yourself just fine,” Grillby said with a frowning flicker.

“No, we’re going to finish this out,” Ruke crowed persistently, their feathers ruffling in annoyance, “ _You’re_ the one who insisted on this.”

“It’s pointless to keep going,” Grillby said with a breath of aggravated smoke, “You’re more than capable of dealing with the tower. You proved your point.”

Ruke scowled, and Grillby winced back away from the torrent of intent and magic when he felt it coming. The bird monster flapped their wings forward, and with the movement came a storm of that icy wind. It slammed into Grillby with enough force to stagger him back a step, the magic screaming at him with stubborn annoyance and anger. It was _cold_. Not just in the driving needles against his body, but in every breath he breathed as well. It put a sore ache in his throat, made the inside of his chest feel cold and searing. Grillby buried his face in the crook of his elbow in the effort to stave it off a bit.

He stood there and he weathered it. If Ruke was so determined to have their way then _fine_. Grillby wasn’t going to give the monster the satisfaction of making him run in circles in a fight he didn’t even want. It was a waste of magic and energy, and Grillby didn’t have the patience for it. The longer he stood there doing nothing, the more Ruke’s exasperation grew, and their intent with it, until eventually Grillby’s hp was at its halfway point. The arm he’d sheltered his face in was a painful mix of numb and burning, his face stung, his throat was sore and his soul was shivering. _Everything_ felt cold all across his body. But it was over.

And just to make sure Ruke _knew_ it was over, he threw some lances at the bird for good measure - fully formed ones, wicked and burning white hot and molten. Ruke was a flurry of feathers getting out of their way, and the hungry attacks left nasty craters in the ground where the monster had been standing. There was a pause where Ruke glared at the aftermath of the lances, looking nothing short of exasperated and shaken. Apparently they hadn’t expected that.

The thought crossed Grillby’s mind to do some sort of mock bow and say something sarcastic - but he was a bit too tired to bother coming up with something to say. Besides… that probably wasn’t something a commander should do… a bit too childish.

Instead Grillby dusted the collected ice off of his clothes, trying not to wince every time he moved. All along the side of his body that had been facing the wind, his flame was burning low and cool in reds. On his arm, there were places where the flame had gone out completely, leaving him with the sore and cracking molten core beneath. Grillby rubbed at it as he walked away, hoping maybe to sooth it a bit. Fighting in the morning was going to be a pain after all that.

Grillby turned to his unit, most of which had been watching the spar, quiet and tense. It was probably unnerving to see their commander brought half to dusting _right before_ the group’s first battle. But it couldn’t be helped.

“Everyone get your rest in for the night,” Grillby said firmly, his voice growling a bit raggedly in his throat when he spoke, “We’ll be moving for the outpost around dawn.”

Grillby turned to walk off, stopping short when Ruke called after him.

“And where are _you_ going?”

Grillby stifled an annoyed sigh, “To make sure our friends on the hill didn’t see all the fire.”

He flashed the escort a tense smile, “You’re welcome to join me if you like.”

Much to Grillby’s annoyance, Ruke actually started walking towards him. Goddamnit. He shouldn’t have offered.

The two meandered their way back towards the outpost, Grillby picking a branch from a tree here or there to burn and consume. It healed the gap in his hp bit by bit, enough to rekindle his flame in the places it had been extinguished if nothing else. Ruke watched him curiously, finally humming.

“You’re stronger than I expected.”

Grillby crackled a sarcastic laugh, “Good to know.”

There was an icy bite in the air when Ruke asked, “You were just playing with me, weren’t you?”

Grillby flickered a frown down at the bird monster.

“At the end, that magic was stronger than everything else you threw at me,” Ruke continued, their voice getting colder and more spiteful with every word, “Why didn’t you use more like that? You think I can’t handle elemental magic?”

“Oh _gods_ ,” Grillby heaved out an exasperated sigh of smoke, “I could _care less_ whether you can handle elemental magic or not. Killing elementals _isn’t hard_. Mages do it all the time.”

Grillby snapped another branch up as they passed some low ones, burning away at it slowly as they walked, “I could just care less about killing anything back unless I have to. I don’t have the energy or intent for _pointless fighting_. But _you do_ , so I made sure you knew when to stop.”

“I was paying attention.”

Grillby splayed his arms out in an irritated motion, “Really? Because your intent sure felt like you planned to keep going.”

“Oh _please_ ,” Ruke spat, “I don’t kill people unless they deserve it.”

“And _I_ don’t deserve it?” Grillby said, sparking a bitter laugh, “You could’ve fooled me.”

Ruke opened their mouth for a retort back, and bitter spark from Grillby cut them off.

“Look, I could care less whether you think I’m worth your time or not,” Grillby growled past the growing soreness in his throat, “I’m an elemental, I _understand_ I’m beneath you. I know I’m just a pile of dust and magic to you. But unfortunately for _both of us_ , I’ve been chosen to keep other monsters from getting killed. We have to on some level get along for that to work.”

Grillby frowned, “I don’t know enough about how all this works to run a unit by myself. You’re my other half. The other half I _need_. Or we are _both_ going to get a lot of monsters killed that we don’t want to.”

Ruke scowled, “I’m not a _child_. I _know_ all of this. And I did help you! _You’re_ the one that decided I wasn’t good enough to bring along for the campaign.”

Grillby sighed. Right. Whatever.

“Well, now I know where you’re at,” he said resignedly, “So it won’t happen again.”

“ _Good_.”

Honestly Grillby could’ve punched the monster _right there_ , if they weren’t so close to the outpost that someone would hear the fight when it started. No apology? No _hey I guess you’re right about both of us having to work together?_ Fine. _Fine_. Grillby was too tired to press any further. He had _bigger_ things to worry about.

Like the fact that the outpost beacon was lit.

Both Grillby and Ruke stared at it, Grillby’s flame turning into deeper shades of red and purple in his horror and exasperation. Why? _Why?_ Had they _seen them_ , or was it being lit for another reason? Or --? In the distance a flickering of light caught Grillby’s eye, too low and bright in the sky to be any kind of star. It was flickering wildly, maybe some code or… some signal of distress? Either way, the camp before them was squirming to life. Grillby could hear humans shouting back and forth to each other in confusion, trying to figure out what was going on.

Ruke cleared their throat, “As your tactical advisor, I suggest you move your offensive forward a few hours.”

Then they chirped with sarcastic pleasantry, “But the good news is, you don’t have to worry about the beacon anymore.”

Grillby scowled and without another word turned to sprint back towards camp, pausing only to make sure Ruke was following. Then Grillby was snapping orders and rousing the monsters that had only _just_ settled back down again. He split the unit in two - two-thirds of the monsters under his care he set in one half, while the rest he kept with him. Any gear that couldn’t fit quickly in their inventories they left behind. If they were successful, they could come back for it later. If not… well... they wouldn’t really need it if not.

Orders given and armor and weapons equipped, they departed, nervous excitement filling the air with magic. Grillby breathed out a heavy sigh every few steps he walked, trying to keep calm, trying to keep his flame from shining like it’s own beacon through the forest as they walked. They could do this. _They could do this_. His monsters were reasonably well trained, his plan was simple and clear. There was still plenty element of surprise for them to go off of, and if Ruke was right about the size of the outpost, they should already have the humans outnumbered. All that was left was the execution. This could still go well.

This _would_ go well, even if Grillby had to burn the whole outpost down in the process.

It was this resolve in his soul that Grillby finally started to calm, his mind slowly succumbing to that cold harshness that overcame him whenever he was confronted with a battle. It was reassuring, a piece of normal and constance. He and his group of monsters found a spot on the treeline to wait, watching quietly as the humans at the outpost squirmed and scrambled. After a few moments, a shadow passed overhead, a grey-ish streak flying high above them. Ruke. And from the direction they flew in, the first half of Grillby’s unit came dashing out of the forest.

Grillby watched them and waited, feeling the monsters behind him shift pensively as the humans swung around to face the coming monsters. He was waiting on Ruke, watching the shifting forms at the top of the outpost and waiting for them to fall. He waited, feeling the seconds tick by like hours, almost holding his breath -

\- the beacon flickered out, and in almost the same motion Grillby watched as one of the humans was tossed off the side of the tower.

Good enough.

Grillby waved the monsters behind him forward, murmuring an order for them all to keep silent. They _ran,_ somewhat clumsily given the snow, but they ran all the same. The air was so brisk it made Grillby want to cough it back out again. But there was a harsher flame igniting in his soul, bitter and hungry, and with a wave of his hand his lances cast themselves into being. They flushed the air with vibrant light for a moment as he aimed, and with a roar lurched forward to the preoccupied humans. _One_ noticed the movement and turned to face it, but by then it was already too late.

In the end the skirmish was brief, maybe the shortest Grillby had even been apart of. By the time he and his monsters arrived, the humans were already down half their numbers - some dead, others wounded. When the remaining saw the elemental, pleas of mercy and surrender were quickly cast forward. Pleas that Grillby scowled at, his soul writhing uncomfortably in his chest when he recognized them. Even as his unit stopped, and circled the cowering creatures, even as everyone else gave mercy.

Just the _thought_ of showing mercy to these things pricked at some callous and dangerous hatred that Grillby didn’t even know he had, and it hit him so suddenly he was almost overwhelmed by it. Some insistent voice in the back of his mind was screaming how dare they, _how dare they?!_ It flushed him in angry whites and blues, melted the snow beneath his feet. It cringed his unit away from him a few steps, especially the monsters standing closest to the waves of heat, and it brought him fearful stares from the humans watching.

There was a rush of air at Grillby’s side, and Ruke landed beside him - _gracelessly_. Apparently they weren’t quite as great at flying as they were with magic. The adviser strutted over to Grillby, feathers a bit disheveled and an angry looking bruise already forming on one of their forelegs, but otherwise unharmed. They glanced up at the elemental, and then at the humans that had survived the mess.

“Logically speaking,” they murmured quietly, “We’re not equipped to keep prisoners.”

Grillby nodded.

“It’s food we don’t have to spare,” Ruke continued, “And we don’t need any information from them - they probably wouldn’t know anything useful cut off from the main army. And if you let them go without supplies they wouldn’t survive the winter anyway.”

The bird monster made a soft cooing noise, almost like a growl, and stalked away, “If you needed a good reason.”

Grillby sighed out a harsh breath of smoke. Honestly? He didn’t. There was a bubbling, nasty feeling dragging itself around in his chest, like some dead thing inside him was crawling back to unnatural life. It twisted bitter colors of purple and green through his flame, made the taste in the smoke of his lungs go sour. And that snarling, angry thing was perfectly fine with what was about to happen, even though his rational mind wasn’t. His rational mind was telling him this was _bad_ , and he should feel some sort of remorse. Even as he lifted a circle of fire around the captured humans. Even as he fanned it harsher and higher, white-hot and inescapable. Even as he brought it crashing down on the wretched creatures, and their bitter cries came to an abrupt and searing halt.

Grillby kept the cage of magic in place until the sweet smell of _burning_ diffused into the frozen air. He ripped the magic away from what was left, nothing but blackened armor and ground and a few greyed and cracking bones that had survived the heat. Everything else was just a mess of ash and unidentifiable remains, a rough heap of nothingness and filth and what was left of Grillby’s smoldering malice. Looking at it, his very _soul_ felt ugly and gross, contaminated by that squirming and biting feeling he didn’t even know he had. _Hate_ wasn’t a strong enough word, and far too full to describe the _empty_ left in it’s wake as it slumbered again in the depths of his soul.

There was a heavy silence that settled over all of them for a moment where Grillby’s unit watched him cautiously, waiting to know what they should do next. The magic in the air tasted of worry and fear. Grillby shook his head, letting his colors relax fretfully back into their previous and more _normal_ colors of orange and yellow. He sighed out a breath of smoke he didn’t realize he’d been holding and glanced back at the horizon. The second beacon there was still blazing, even though their outpost’s beacon had already gone out.

And the fight had been a little _easy_ , for humans who knew they were coming.

“That’s Terros,” Grillby mused out loud, realization slowly dawning on him, “They must have lit their beacon when Terros attacked, and were asking for help.”

Ruke let out a sharp noise, “Must not have gone so well for their group then, if the beacon is still lit. The humans are still maintaining it somehow.”

A writhing worry made it’s way through Grillby’s soul. He scowled, resisting the urge to pace in the snow to think. After a pause he looked around at his own unit, taking in the damage they’d taken. Most of them were in fine shape - the dragon he’d appointed healer earlier had already gotten to work on the handful of wounded they had. Grillby came to a decision.

“Alright, Ruke, I’m leaving you with the wounded and half the unit,” he said finally, “The rest of us are going to see what’s going on.”

There was a collective bit of sighing and complaint from the group. Grillby couldn’t help but flicker a soft laugh. Right. It was the middle of the night, and none of them had slept yet.

“Take an hour to rest,” Grillby hummed, “If the beacon is off by then we’ll wait until morning.”

This seemed to placate the group, even if it let Grillby jittering with nervousness. For the next hour he watched the beacon as it flickered and fretted, a bad omen, a dying star glaring across the horizon. But he knew one thing for sure - he wasn’t about to lose another friend to the cruel persistence of humans. He’d razed the world once when it had happened. He was more than sure he could do it again.

The hour passed slow and uneventful, with that light still bright and burning in the sky. Grillby picked from his monsters the ones he thought could travel with him the fastest. Ruke reviewed with him the path and direction they should go, and with a final nod they left. If the escort thought Grillby was being impulsive or irrational, they kept those comments to themselves, and Grillby was grateful for it. Right now, he just needed to focus on getting to Terros.

Dread was building in him like the chill in the air, and he scowled as he stormed through it. It was going to be a _long_ night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Sorry this chapter was as late as it was! I underestimated how long these scenes were gonna be. More interesting things are gonna be happening next chapter, so it'll also probably be long. I'm going to try really hard to get it out by Tuesday, because while I'm free I wanna write as much as possible! But! This weekend is also Christmas :3 So I could either get a TON of writing done, or absolutely none at all ahaha. And I have no buffer //dances in circles// YAY!
> 
> Ahaha I don't mind though. I'm having fun :D
> 
> Anyway, Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate! Merry-Not-Christmas if you do not! I know there's a couple other holidays that fall around this time of year but I never knew much about them - but if you celebrate those, I hope you enjoy them as well! Just! Everyone have a nice bit of fun this week if you can.
> 
> Sorry I'm feeling festive and excited today XD I'm wearing an elf hat and everything guys. There are problems.


	56. There's a Hole in the Ground and a Stone Before it and the Name Written there Might Surprise You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a little bit of commotion  
> A new element is put into play  
> And ghosts are kind of spooky, in like the creepy, smiles-too-much no-personal-space kinda way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart feature! Ahhhgggffff and this one is full of happy feels ahaha.
> 
> This first one up is by [99street on Tumblr of Grillby and Gaster kinda just chilling and being awesome together](http://99street.tumblr.com/post/154872309823/whew-finally-threw-together-some-art-for) and it's really adorable and made me smile ahaha. Ahhhhh I miss these two boys being goobers.
> 
> Aaaand we've got another from [procrastinatingbookworm on Tumblr of Amathea](http://procrastinatingbookworm.tumblr.com/post/154942323527/theblogofcastingrain-i-got-some-watercolor-paper) since they got some new watercolors for Christmas and wanted to break them in on lovely fishmom.
> 
> And one that I missed last week because I'm a friggin dingus. Seriously guys just like, reach out from across the internet and hit me as hard as you can with your shoes.
> 
> Anywho! [Lunarwinglatias on Deviantart featured Casting Rain in a lyric comic with all their favorite AUs](http://lunarwinglatias.deviantart.com/art/Arms-Undertale-AU-Lyric-Comic-650202158), and given some of the other fantastic artists who made the list I'm actually really surprised little CR is on here ahahaha!

The walk through the night was cold and miserable, but with Grillby around, at least they had light. He burned brightly for his unit for most of the night, hoping to at least keep them from stumbling as much as they had to. If he was going to force them to march on this fool’s errand, he could at least afford them that much. He tried to give them rest too, when he thought they needed it. If they really were about to march into a fight, they’d be kind of useless if they arrived exhausted.

But Grillby was nervous, and sometimes it was hard to remember he was a little… hardier… than the rest of the monsters around him. His soul jittered with nervous energy while they were footsore and stumbling. He would keep going until his magic burned itself out. They _couldn’t_. And it was maddening being slowed down.

To make matters worse, at some point during the night the beacon stopped glowing. It made it a _little_ harder to navigate, but that wasn’t what Grillby was worried about. Had it gone out because the humans had won, and no longer needed help? Had it simply run out of fuel and they were still fighting? Had the monsters won? Gods, just waiting to find out was driving him _mad_. His very soul felt like it’d been replaced by nervous energy. He wasn’t fire. He was axiety and fear and flashing colors of purples, greens, yellows and reds. He was worry and panic and sparks and smoke the common sense it took to mask these things behind a facade of impatience and forced optimism.

They were _going_ to get there in time to help _whatever_ was going on, or they were going to laugh about how stupid and _pointless_ the trip was. Those were the only two options Grillby allowed himself to think about.

Sometime during the night they stopped for a longer rest. Grillby made them a dry place to sleep - all that pent up and jittering magic finally coming to some sort of use. While his monsters slept, Grillby paced, and he woke them just as dawn broke and sent them on their way again.

Midmorning crawled to life and with it came a warmth they’d all been missing. It wasn’t enough to dispel the winter by far, but it was easily enough to melt the snow that had cast itself across the ground, especially in the sun. For Grillby it made the walk a little more troublesome. Snow slid its way off slickened and warming branches, and water dripped from every inch of the world. Grillby just pulled his hood low over his face, scowled and walked through it. Though… he did heave a sigh of relief when the forest parted to reveal clearer land. And with the parting loomed the second outpost, its tower reaching like the half-hewn skeleton towards the stark and frozen blue of the morning.

Grillby didn’t… expect what he saw.

Much like the first outpost, it was situated at the top of a small incline. It wasn’t enough to be a hill by far, but enough to give a little better look of the world around it than the lower ground around it. There were two cabins there, looking desolate and uninhabited, though in the distance Grillby could make out shifting shapes. Whether they were human or not, he couldn’t tell - yet.

It was the distance that separated him from the outpost that stopped him in his tracks, and stopped his unit behind him. It was… destroyed. It was obvious some earth-shaking battle had taken place but it made no sense that it could have! How could half a unit of monsters and _half that number_ of humans create… _this?_ The ground was churned up and torn apart. The few trees that had been alive on the open ground were shattered and topped over. Everywhere the ground glinted in the sun, not just from what remained of the snow but from rent armor and weapons. It was as if a giant pair of hands had descended on the battlefield while the creatures had fought, crushed and tore them and gouged out the ground as it played - ripping everything apart like so many paper dolls and handfuls of clay.

And… _one person_ stood in the middle of it all. Alone and still. Like a statue, a frozen silhouette.

From this distance, Grillby couldn’t tell _who_ or _what_ it was. He couldn’t even tell if it was facing his direction. All he knew was that it was there, and it was unnerving. As if it had been waiting for them to arrive, or perhaps guarding whatever had managed to take the outpost.

Grillby breathed out a wisp of curling smoke, murmuring a quiet and stern, “Stay here,” to the monsters behind him. They didn’t need told twice. Apparently everything about this place made them just as uneasy as it made Grillby. At least the elemental had the assurance that, whatever it was, it couldn’t hurt him. _Probably_ , anyway.

Walking through it was eerie, and slow going.

Grillby had to watch where he placed his feet to make sure he didn’t step on anything. Disgusted hues of green curled their way through his flame as he walked and looked. All the remains Grillby passed were human, but he could only tell it by the fact that they were _there_ , and not dust shifting beneath his boots. The bodies were rent and torn and broken. Bones ripped their way out of softened flesh. Metal armor meant to protect was caved under crippling blows, crushing whatever it had meant to shield. Some of it still let off faint ripples of heat into the air as the warm insides met the cooler morning.

When he wasn’t stepping delicately around offal and gnarled weaponry he was treading carefully on the abnormalities in the ground. Unnatural cracks and crevices wove their way in fracturing circles across the earth, sometimes vanishing treacherously under a patch of snow that clung to life. The ground dipped and dived, or stacked awkwardly on top of itself in ways that weren’t _normal…_ but still _familiar_. While the rest of the aftermath might be sickeningly new, _this_ wasn’t. This Grillby had seen dozens of times while he sparred with Ora and Terros.

And as Grillby approached the figure in the field, he realized why, and strove to walk all the faster as his worry spurred him on.

From the closing distance he could make out the armor, the stance, the build - it was _Terros!_ And thank the gods he was okay! His back was to Grillby, and the fire elemental stepped himself into a jog to get to him sooner.

“Terros!” he called across the distance, “Hey! What the hell happened out here?”

Terros shifted, turning slightly towards the noise. Grillby flickered a frown, his pace slowing just a step. _Weird_. He was used to feeling the brush of Terros’ magic, the reaching emotion. _Recognition_ at least. It felt weirdly empty when none of that came to him. Maybe he was still too far away? No. No that couldn’t be it. They were plenty close for Grillby to feel that sort of thing.

Movement caught Grillby’s attention past his friend, movement from the outpost. It was a monster, he could see that, waving their arms at him. Maybe… maybe they were shouting something, but Grillby couldn’t hear it. He didn’t have to though. He knew a warning when he saw it, even if he didn’t know what it was for.

Grillby stopped abruptly, that writhing feeling of uneasy building pressure in his soul. What… what was going on here?

Terros was facing him now, and when his gaze settled on Grillby the fire elemental felt a chill flicker through his flame; not because of intent or magic, but because of how _devoid_ of all of those things Terros was. It was like he couldn’t even see Grillby. More than that. It was like he wasn’t even _awake_. And now that he was facing Grillby the fire elemental could make out a nasty crack across Terros’ body. It wasn’t nearly so deep as Ora’s had been, but it snaked and stabbed its way across Terros’ arm and shoulder. When Terros moved, a bit of crystalline sand tumbled free of it, thick with bled magic. It looked _painful_. It… looked like something a mage would make. It looked like… something an _escort_ would make.

Grillby took a step back. That uneasy feeling in his soul was starting to turn into something a lot closer to nausea and fear.

“Terros?” he called cautiously, trying to at least _sound_ normal past the hoarseness in his throat and the choking feeling of nervousness, “That… looks pretty bad. You should probably see a healer for that.”

Something in the ground shifted, a soft rumble like something waking. Grillby widened his stance a bit, suddenly very aware of how exposed he was out here. Suddenly very sure the ground was about to be ripped out from underneath his feet. But this was still _wrong_. That shift in the ground - that _had_ to be Terros’ magic! Why couldn’t Grillby feel anything? No intent? No emotion? Not even a hint that the magic in the air was building! What the _hell_ was _going on?_

“Terros, come on, snap out of this,” the nauseous fear was turning to dread now, dread and a single panicked thought, “I’m not an enemy here.”

Where was Terros’ escort? If Terros was acting strange, his escort should be going _crazy_ trying to figure out what was wrong. His escort should be _here_ , confronting the stone elemental. Grillby cast his gaze across the space around him, looking for any sign that the escort was even _here._ He didn’t know the monsters in Terros’ unit well enough to make out any specific forms at the outpost - and it probably didn’t matter, given the small crowd that was forming there. At least Grillby didn’t see any dust. That was… promising… at least.

The ground was starting to shake even more, pulling and building on itself, rousing like some stretching and groaning creature beneath Grillby’s feet.

“Look, I don’t know what happened, okay?” Grillby tried one last time, taking another step back as magic finally managed to ripple to life in the air around them. Raw, emotionless, barren magic. As if somehow Terros was managing to conjure it up in his sleep. Even his eyes, normally bright with magic-infused color, seemed dull and cool. Nothing but cloudy white and sparks of blue.

“And I don’t care,” Grilby continued, wincing back as the ground gave a particularly threatening groan, “But if you talk to me we can fix this, alright?”

Nothing. _Nothing_. Just more of Terros’ quiet staring. More of the shifting earth, so much so that cracks were starting to rip themselves into the ground around Grillby’s feet. Pieces of the ground were being ripped free, rising with Terros’ magic, reshaping themselves into something else.  The chunks of earth cracked and groaned as they reformed themselves, shaping into wicked and dangerous looking spears. Grillby recognized them. He’d taught them to Terros himself when they sparred. He’d been intimidated by them then too. Something didn’t have to harm him to be scary.

 _This couldn’t be real._ Grillby had to have fallen asleep - passed out in the snow at some point because he hadn’t slept that night.

Was this what being unstable looked like? Grillby had heard about it. He’d been threatened with it. Step out of line and this is what happens. You’re an _elemental_ , you follow orders, or you stop functioning. You’re not a monster. You’re a mess of magic that has to be controlled or eventually you’re going to snap. That’s what your escort is for. To control the aftermath when you do. To stop you from killing everything.

Was… Terros…?

The lances ripped forward. Faster than a blink. And when they hit they knocked Grillby off his feet. For a few seconds he was weightless, breathing awkwardly past the spear that had run itself through his chest. And then he was slamming into the ground, cringing and curling as small as he could in the hopes that the other lances missed him. They did, but one slammed into the ground close enough to his face to force his vision out of focus.

Terros _couldn’t be unstable_. He’d shown no signs of it! No rebellion. No fear. This made no sense. _None of this made sense._

The attack collapsed, showering Grillby in grit and wasted magic. He took the chance he was given and staggered to his feet, watching Terros with a growing sense of weary nervousness and dread. Terros couldn’t be unstable! If Terros was unstable that meant he’d have to be dispelled. No, _dispelled_ was too kind a word. It was a word made by monsters who didn’t want to feel guilty.

If Terros was unstable, he was going to be _killed_.

Terros _couldn’t die._ He couldn’t be the monster that told Ora the only family she had left was dead. He couldn’t lose another friend to this _madness_ that had crawled its way like a festering blight through the world. Grillby didn’t think he’d survive going through something like that again. He’d turn to dust from the inside out, he knew it. _Gods_. If Terros could kill him, maybe it was worth letting him. _He couldn’t go through this again_.

A second round of lances tore themselves into existence, and the earth bucked beneath Grillby’s feet. This time the elemental sprang into motion, managing to dodge out of the way of the attacks that came for him. They didn’t _hurt_. They didn’t sap away his hp. But Grillby could do nothing if he was pinned to the ground, so he circled out of their way, wondering frantically about what he was supposed to do.

He had to fix this. _How could he fix this?_

“Terros come on! Talk to me!” Grillby shouted, stumbling when his foot came down on a patch of earth he hadn’t expected to move into place there, “We don’t have to do this!”

More lances, woven together with sharp spires that ripped from the ground and stabbed towards Grillby’s legs. He danced out of the way of them, obliterating some of Terros’ own lances with a few of his own. They burst in a shower of molten rock and sparks and smoke.

Grillby felt his soul jolt around in his chest. That’s right he’d forgotten… his lances could tear apart hillsides if he put enough intent behind them. And if they could smash a hillside, and rip apart Terros’ spears, they could do some serious damage to Terros himself. Grillby needed to be careful with those. He needed to save them. He… if Terros didn’t snap out of it would he have to…?

“Oh _gods_ no,” Grillby hissed with a breath of smoke, “No no _no no!_ Terros! _Stop this!”_

The ground beneath his feet gave a sudden and mighty lurch, and Grillby had to scramble to keep his balance. And then he was moving again, running as spires sprang up and attacks rained down. They weren’t just spears and spines, there were walls coming, chunks of earth ripping themselves free and careening forward. Others rose out of the ground, made to trip him up or catch him, to crush him between warping walls of dirt, stone and magic.

Grillby cast forward his own magic too, concentrated bursts of fire that weakened the attacks that raged towards him. But he was helpless to stop them completely. He didn’t have the strength for it, or the intent. What could fire do against stone other than break apart and be stamped out of existence? All he had that could do _real damage_ was his lances, and he didn’t _want_ to use those. He didn’t want to hurt Terros! He _couldn’t_ hurt Terros.

Grillby vaulted over a low-sweeping wall of Terros’ attacks, throwing some fire beneath his feet to add to the motion and push his leap a little higher. It helped.

“Come on Terros!” Grillby shouted, “You know better than this!”

With a well-timed blast of molten flame he scattered another angry spear as it whistled towards him, using the gap in between attacks to storm towards the stone elemental who was still watching him coldly.

“We’ve sparred a thousand times!” Grillby shouted persistently, “You _know_ you can’t hurt me!”

Nothing. Not even a _hint_ of response. There wasn’t even any annoyance that Grillby kept dodging out of the way! Just that vacant staring and the soft rippling in the air as more attacks started to build. Grillby answered by fanning himself hotter and walking faster, wheels of fire springing to life close by him. He released them, sent them shooting forward when more of Terros’ cracking spires jerked towards him. His fire obliterated the first few rows of moving attacks before breaking against the coming stone. Grillby ran forward and leaped, dodging what was left of the coming spires.

He had no way of dodging the wall of rock that slammed forward after it though, conjured to life so quickly he hardly knew it was there before it was crashing into him. It hit Grillby with enough force to make his soul shudder, catching him mid-stride and sending him flying. He pinwheeled across the ground, hardly knowing what was up or down until he ran into something that turned his tumble into a shuddering halt. If the splinters were any indication, he’d managed to go careening right into a tree.

Grillby let out a groan as he slumped to the ground, half sick from dizziness. _Gods_ he was glad he didn’t take physical damage. That would’ve been _rough_ if he did. No wonder so many of the bodies littered around this place were broken beyond recognition. For a few seconds, he wondered if it was even worth standing back up again. Grillby was obviously getting _nowhere_ with this, and he was just as likely to hurt Terros as Terros was to hurt Grillby. And he was already sick of being tossed around like a ragdoll.

Why was Terros doing this?! Unstable or not, he should at least have the common sense not to waste his magic trying to kill something that _couldn’t die_. Not with what magic Terros had at his disposal anyway.

The rumbling of moving earth started a new crescendo, and Grillby managed to finally pull himself to his feet - in time to spring out of the way as the ground he’d been laying on suddenly split and parted. Grillby peered into the void that had opened up for a second, and then started running again when the crack lurched in his direction. Then he was back to shattering the attacks thrown towards him, running in circles around Terros. _Begging_ whatever was listening that he didn’t trip on something.

A wall ripped itself out of the ground in front of him, and Grillby jerked to the side to avoid it - only to be met with another. He paused long enough to look back, dread curling grasping hands around his soul when another was being pulled up as well. And another. All of the walls were suddenly springing forward in tandem, boxing him in so he couldn’t escape the ripping crack that had followed him as he’d sprinted away.

 _No_.

“Terros stop!” Grillby shouted, springing for the nearest wall, “ _Don’t_ _trap me in here!”_

 _Panic_ crashed over him so suddenly it nearly took his breath away. Grillby sprung forward, jumping as high as he could, lighting a fire beneath his feet in the effort to press himself _that much higher_. His hands curled around the edge of the wall and he scrambled up, kicking and pulling and clawing until he was nearly over and free and -

Terros was _right there_ , a hand reaching out to wrap around Grillby’s neck. He forced Grillby back, crumbling the wall beneath his hands and feet until he was dangling over nothing. Grillby had enough time to reach to cling to Terros’ arm before the stone elemental was dropping him. With a screech Grillby fell into the pit Terros had made, crashing in a heap at the bottom. He was on his feet in a second, his breath catching in his throat as harsh as the sound of rumbling and groaning in the earth around him. It was moving. It was _closing in_.

Grillby was suddenly _terrified._ Could this kill him? _Could this kill him? He didn’t know!_

“Terros let me out!” Grillby screamed, scrabbling for some sort of way of pulling himself out of this trap and finding _nothing._ Just the walls of his cage getting closer, “Don’t do this! Come on, we’re friends! You don’t _want_ to do this to me!”

Nothing. Not even a flinch. Not even a _blink_. Grillby felt like he might be sick. His throat was getting tight, his chest moving in something that would’ve been a sob if his panic would let him _breathe_. Grillby screwed his eyes shut and pressed his back against the nearest wall - one that was _much closer_ than he’d wanted it to be. He reached out a hand and with it his magic, shaping it into a lance.

“ _Please_ don’t kill him,” he muttered shakily to himself, “ _Please don’t kill him.”_

He let go.

There was a very loud _crack_ as Grillby’s molten magic collided with a solid form, followed by a cry that could belong to no one other than Terros. The earth around Grillby gave an overwhelming shudder, cringing with him in one hearty shiver before finally becoming still. There was a soft shower of debris that peppered across Grillby’s shoulders and head as all the movement stopped, a soft sigh from deeper than the earth itself as the magic that had been orchestrating all of this released.

Grillby slumped to his knees with it, brushing up against the wall in front of him when he moved. It was so close, barely an arm’s length away from where he’d been cowering against the far side of his shrinking trap. It was hardly larger than a coffin. Grillby took a few seconds to just _breathe,_ to be reassured by the fact that he wasn’t about to be literally _crushed_ out of existence. And then his eyes were snapping open and his panic was reigniting.

“Terros?” Grillby called, “Terros are you okay?!”

Nothing.

With a grunt of effort Grillby jumped and reached, always a few hopeless inches away from the top of his prison even when he used his fire to push himself upwards. He was stuck down here. Oh _gods_ he was stuck down here. It was a force of will for Grillby not to give in to his increasing panic and curl up on the ground where he stood - to just wait until some monster above got the courage to come and drag him out. He made another one of his lances and fired, wincing against the shower of debris that tumbled on top of him when it did. He coughed and spat the dirt out of his mouth and fired again, chipping away a couple rough handholds to grip into. Grillby leaped and scrabbled and climbed. It took a few tries as he groped and stumbled awkwardly towards his freedom.

Finally he managed to pull himself out of the pit and onto solid, _unmoving_ ground. He didn’t let himself rest though, couldn’t allow himself to just bask in the _quiet_ left behind. Terros. He needed to make sure Terros was okay.

Grillby stumbled to his feet and looked around, heaving a sigh of relief when he saw Terros sprawled across the ground not too far away. He wasn’t dust. Oh _thank heavens_ he wasn’t dust. But… Grillby didn’t know if he was _okay_ either. Nervously, hesitantly, Grillby reached his hand out for another lance as he stepped forward, this one half-formed and flickering in cool reds. He didn’t want to kill him by any means! But... he wasn’t about to get trapped in that nightmare a second time.

“Terros…?” Grillby called, stepping closer to where his friend had fallen.

Terros stirred, groaning quietly, _painfully_ as he moved to curl onto his side. As he did his magic flickered to life with emotion, confused and lost and _hurting_. But it was awake and alive and _normal_.

“Grillby?”

The lance in his hand flickered out in an instant, and Grillby was at Terros’ side, flickering in ecstatic yellows and whites.

“Oh thank _heavens_ ,” Grillby said with a miserable laugh, “I thought I’d killed you.”

“You… what…?”

Terros winced as he sat up, his good hand grasping at his wounded shoulder. The attack Grillby had thrown had made it worse. The crack spiraled deeper and spider-webbed itself out further, branching closer to Terros’ neck, and probably across his chest as well, though Grillby couldn’t see that. Sand and exhausted magic tumbled from the deepest parts of it.

Terros didn’t seem nearly as concerned with the wound as he did the world around him. He blinked uncomprehendingly at the battered landscape, gaping in blank confusion at everything he saw. Though the scorch marks across the ground and the bite of smoke in the air were probably telling enough.

“What… happened?” Terros asked slowly.

His opaline eyes rested on the pit Grillby had been trapped in, and he sucked in a breath, “What…?”

His gaze darted back to Grillby, “I… I didn’t do that did I?”

Grillby flickered a pensive frown, “You don’t remember?”

Terros shook his head, “No I… No. I don’t remember anything.”

A pause passed between them for a moment where Terros looked back out at the mess of a battlefield they were sitting on.

“What happened?” Terros whispered again, more to himself than Grillby as if repeating the same question over again would somehow yield answers. Everything from the way he looked at the landscape around him to the way his magic rippled in confusion screamed how _lost_ he was, and Grillby didn’t know what to do with it. He was just as clueless as Terros. With a sigh of smoke Grillby got to his feet, offering a hand to help Terros up as well.

“Come on, your unit’s up the hill,” he said quietly, “Let’s figure out what’s going on.”

Terros allowed himself to be helped to his feet, and through their touch Grillby could feel the stone elemental’s mind _racing_. Parsing through bits of thoughts and worries and fears and ultimately coming up with nothing. Grillby helped Terros walk, pausing long enough to wave to where his monsters were still waiting by the edge of the woods. Hesitantly they joined him, and together they meandered their way to the outpost. Grillby noticed they gave the pair of elementals plenty of distance, could feel their nervousness around Terros. But he _also_ noticed a few of them looked impressed, awed even.

Grillby wanted to roll his eyes at it. That was probably the first time they’d ever seen Grillby use that much magic, and he was pathetic the entire time. Too scared to do anything impactful and hopelessly matched against an element he could hardly scratch. Apparently his monsters were easily impressed.

If Grillby thought _his_ unit was nervous, they were nothing compared to Terros’ unit. Or… what was left of Terros’ unit at least. They looked like they might be a few monsters fewer than when Grillby had last seen them, but he didn’t know for sure. What he _did_ know was they looked ragged and tired, like they hadn’t slept at all the night before, and they tiptoed around Terros as if he were a mage instead of a monster.

Grillby eased his friend to a seat on the ground before turning to the monsters around him. They were all just standing and staring, looking as lost and pathetic as Grillby felt, though he hoped he didn’t show it nearly as much.

“Anyone who can use green, work on him please,” he snapped, trying to sound commanding and ultimately just sounded tired, “And his escort, I need to see her.”

There was a long pause where nobody moved, and Grillby hissed out a frustrated sigh of smoke. Slowly, the group of monsters meandered into action. Two stepped up to Terros to help mend his wounds, and a third motioned for Grillby to follow him towards one of the cabins off to the side of the outpost tower.

“Logan isn’t well off,” they reported - that was the escort’s name, he guessed, “We healed her as much as we could but she hasn’t woken up yet.”

“What happened?” Grillby demanded, his soul squirming again with nerves.

The monster gave an emphatic, four-armed shrug, “Hell if I know. The commander went nuts.”

Grillby flickered in frustrated whites and yellows, “Surely you saw _something_.”

The monster winced away from the increase in heat, “Well yeah we all saw it. Don’t really know what _it_ was though. Everything was going okay, given the circumstances. We took the outpost but the light was on. Before we could scale the tower and get it off again a pack of humans came bursting out of the woods.”

They hesitated for a second and then continued, “Commander told us that something felt off about them and went down to take care of them himself. It was… normal at first and then… we noticed it was just getting a bit _much_. He was making a mess of everything down there. Tore everything to bits. And then when he was done he just… stood there. Logan went down to see what was going on, and he almost dusted her. She got one good swing in and knocked him off his feet. Barely managed to scramble back here before he could hit her again. Broke her arm and some ribs and probably got her bleeding on the inside. She was a mess.”

They flailed their arms in a lost kind of motion, “Figured we would wait on her to wake up before we decided what to do next. Then you showed up.”

They let out a sigh, “And a right sight for sore eyes _that_ was, when you got him to stop. Thought you were dead for a few seconds there though.”

Grillby had already stopped listening. He was flickering a frown at his feet, trying to at least _look_ calm on the outside while inside he was nothing but panic.

That was it then. That was… it. Terros had almost killed his escort - would’ve killed his entire unit if they hadn’t been out of the way. Oh gods. Oh… _gods_. No. No no no. This couldn’t be happening, this _couldn’t._ But… but Terros had snapped out of it, hadn’t he? He was safe now. They wasn’t _dangerous_ right now. They didn’t have to… But… what if it happened again? What if he _snapped_ again?

Apparently some of his distress was apparent, because the monster before him cleared their throat to grab his attention.

“I hear this… happens sometimes,” they said hesitantly, “Monsters sometimes get scared and go crazy for a little bit.”

There was a pause and they added, “I also hear you elementals do something different than that.”

“Terros _isn’t_ unstable,” Grillby snapped with a lot more intensity than he’d intended. It hurt his throat.

“Right, you’d know I’m sure,” they said it sincerely, almost apologetically, but regardless it had Grillby white with bitter anger, “But Logan is the one who’s supposed to decide that. It’s her you’ll have to convince.”

Grillby tilted his head in the direction of the small cabin, where he was sure the escort was still sleeping and trying to heal. Grillby sighed out another tense breath of smoke. If Logan was anything like Ruke, then Terros was probably as good as dead. It was just a matter of time.

Grillby thanked the monster he’d been talking to and meandered his way back to Terros, taking his time to gather a few more stories from the unit as he walked. They didn’t differ much.

The monsters who’d been working on healing Terros were finished, having exhausted a good bit of magic trying to mend the angry looking wound. They’d helped a good bit. The deepest portion of the crack that rested on his shoulder was much shallower than it had been, and several of the gouges that had extended from it had disappeared completely. The bleeding of magic and sand had stopped as well, though Grillby was sure the thing still ached.

Grillby settled down on the ground beside Terros with a sigh.

“Find anything out?” Terros asked expectantly.

“Tell me what you remember first.”

Terros blinked at him, a worried frown rippling through his magic, “I told you I don’t remember anything. It’s all just… _white._ ”

“You remember us walking up here?” Grillby asked cautiously.

“Yeah, you told campfire stories the other night,” Terros hummed, face contorting as much as it could in puzzlement - which was a feat for a creature made of stone, “I remember splitting up and arriving at the outpost. I remember the fight and the beacon…”

Terros squinted up at the watch tower, the beacon on which was out. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, his magic a ripple of confusion. Then he sighed.

“I don’t remember anything after that.”

Grilby ran a hand through the flame on his head, scowling, “That wasn’t helpful.”

Grillby sighed, a creeping feeling of fearful dread curling up in his stomach again. He could feel Terros watching him, his silent question writhing in every inch of his magic and his gaze. Grillby wanted to _lie_ and say nothing had happened. He wanted to stand up and walk away. He wanted to wake up, if he was asleep.

“According to your monsters,” Grillby said quietly, “A second group of humans came out of the forest to answer the beacon, and you went down to handle it yourself. And you did. You took care of all of them. But then you just froze down there. When your escort tried to get you, you attacked her.”

Terros looked down at his hands, everything about his magic going still and quiet. But it wasn’t the same _nothingness_ that had inhabited it before when Grillby had fought him. This was dismal. Hopeless.

“And where do you fit into all of this?” Terros asked.

Grillby sighed, “We saw the beacon was on from the outpost we took. When it didn’t go off, I decided to make sure you were okay.”

“And you were the one who stopped me?” Terros asked, though his voice was less of a question and more of a statement. His hand was rubbing absentmindedly at his shoulder.

“Yeah, sorry,” Grillby said with a forced laugh, “I was trying not to hurt you. But… you kind of scared the shit out of me.”

“What did I _do?”_ Terros asked, and Grillby was surprised by how distraught he sounded, and how severe his voice became when he asked again, “What could I _possibly do_ to scare _you_ , Mage-Slayer?”

“It was nothing,” Grillby said quickly, trying to sound reassuring, “I was just scared you wouldn’t snap out of it.”

“I almost killed you, didn’t I?” Oh gods he sounded so _frantic_ , and the closest thing to tears Grillby had ever heard him. But his magic was angry, bitter and roiling and oppressive enough to make the monsters standing nearby take anxious steps back, “What the hell did I do?!”

“Terros calm down,” Grillby said, hands out in a placating sign, hands moving through the nervous motion unconsciously, “You didn’t do _anything_ , alright? I’m _fire_ for heaven's sakes! You really think you can hurt me?”

Terros was on his feet, exasperated and towering, “ _Yes_ I do, and I almost _did!_ ”

Terros made the move to pace, and then stopped and snapped, “The King has to know about this, and as soon as Logan is awake we need to-”

“Stop _right there_ ,” Grillby sprang to his feet, a fearful panic curling around inside him, “You’re upset, you’re scared, okay? That’s fine, but don’t do anything _stupid.”_

“Grillby I’m _dangerous_ ,” Terros growled persistently, “I almost killed my own unit. I’m-”

“You’re _not_ unstable!” Grillby shouted, cutting him off before he could say another word. Grillby was sparking and frantic, and hot and bright enough that Terros actually flinched a step away from him when he spoke, “Monsters panic, and they do crazy, stupid, terrible things sometimes when they do. That’s _all this was_. You felt something off with what was going on down there. Maybe something was actually wrong, maybe it wasn’t, but you panicked and blacked out and shit happened. You just needed snapped out of it! And that’s what _I_ did, I snapped you out of it! You’re _fine._ ”

“You don’t _know that_ , Grillby!” Terros said, his voice earnest, “Elementals don’t get… I don’t even know what that is. Panic crazy? We just _don’t._ ”

Grillby sparked a piping laugh, “You mean to tell me, _me_ , the guy that’s fought _six mages_ , that _elementals don’t panic?_ I must not be an elemental then!”

“Your panicking has never blacked you out for _hours_ and almost killed your own monsters!”

Grillby flickered bitterly for a heartbeat. He didn’t know how to diffuse this. He didn’t know how to stop Terros from doing the _incredibly stupid thing_ of practically _asking_ to be dispelled because of this. And Terros wasn’t the only worry now. Their argument was bright and loud and infused with tense magic, and every monster on the outpost was watching them. Probably waiting to see if one of them would suddenly turn on the other and start fighting all over again. Grillby needed to stop this. He needed to turn this around.

With a nervous, almost hesitant spark, Grillby lied, “Yes it has.”

“Grillby, if that ever happened you would’ve been dispelled.”

“When I made the wall,” Grillby continued sternly, praying whatever color his fire was flickering that it at least stayed consistent, that Terros wouldn’t be able to _somehow_ tell he was lying, “I blacked out completely. I remember giving Ora to Brigg, and turning back towards the soldiers. That’s it.”

For a few seconds, Terros was completely speechless. Finally he stuttered, “No but… You… you were talking to me. You couldn’t have been gone like that.”

“A mage hit me in the chest with an _ice spear_ , Terros,” Grillby snapped, “I woke up. And let me tell you how fucking sour it was to wake up and realize half that stuff on the ground wasn’t just _ash_ , but the dust of a dozen monsters that didn’t make it through before I lit the whole goddamn forest on fire.”

Now Terros said nothing, but Grillby could feel his magic settling down again, getting quieter and more thoughtful, and lilting further and further away from the self-destructive spiral Terros had been feeding himself through.

Grillby sighed out a heavy breath of smoke, “Listen, every monster has that moment when suddenly the war becomes _real_ , and they just kind of panic. Mine happened after I lost everything, and I figured I might as well walk right towards death instead of letting it run me down. Yours happened _here_ , out of the way of any real armies where a lot of people could get hurt. Next time, you won’t panic. You’ll be ready to deal with whatever comes your way.”

Grillby raised his voice a bit, looking to the monsters around him. If he was going to go through with this lie he was going to do it properly at least, “And that goes the same for all of you. I’ve seen the strongest, bravest monsters I know become completely _useless_ in the face of human weaponry and magic. Train yourselves strong and trust each other. The only way you’ll survive any of this hell is if you work together as a unit.”

By the time Grillby finished, he could feel a weight in the air lifting a bit. The monsters, and Terros as well, seemed reassured. There was still worry, and a bit of nervous tension, a soft fear of the unknown and murmured wondering about what would happen if something like this _ever_ happened again. But it was also subtly hopeful. Maybe this was normal. _Tragic_ and normal. But no one had been killed because of it. So… maybe it was a bearable kind of tragic. One they could learn from and move past.

Grillby just hoped the speech would be the same amount of convincing when he had to recount it for Logan later. Which he did sometime in the evening, when the escort finally awoke. She seemed _much_ more skeptical, and for a few seconds Grillby wondered if she could sense the lies in his voice. Or maybe she was just wary because he was an elemental, trying to explain away a horror that a close friend had managed to concoct.

“Terros still wants to see the King about this,” Grillby conceded to her after she’d pressed him with a few questions, “He’s worried about something like this happening to Ora, and he wants to warn her about it, and the King as well, if he plans on naming more elementals as commanders.”

Logan had agreed. She was… reasonably worried. Grillby wanted to just dismiss all of this, have Terros get back to work with his unit in some semblance of normalcy but… he admitted no rousing speeches or half-truths would earn him that. Terros was going to have to see the King. Terros… might even be given some sort of trial. Honestly Grillby didn’t know how things like this went. The only law he’d ever seen enforced was minor, something you threw a monster in the stockade for. He had no idea what attacking your own unit could possibly warrant.

But one thing was certain - for now, Logan was acting commander, and she was ordering Terros be sent to the King for some sort of reprimand. And Grillby offered to go with them, justifying it by saying he’d stopped Terros once where obviously Logan couldn’t. If something happened… he could be there again to help. Not that he planned on it. If Asgore called for something as drastic as having Terros dispelled, Grillby knew he could never go through with it. But he wasn’t thinking about that right now. Right now all he was thinking about was somehow making this lie _convincing enough_ that even the _King_ could buy it.

And pray that didn’t mean every elemental in the whole army was immediately dispelled for being a potential threat.

Shit. _Shit._ He hadn’t thought this through. Oh _gods_ he hadn’t thought this through. What the hell was he doing?! Making everything worse, _that_ was what he was doing. But he was going with them anyway, and sending the bit of the unit he’d taken with him back to Ruke to hold down the outpost while he and Terros were gone. He prayed his unit didn’t go around spreading his story about the wall. He didn’t need to give Ruke _one more reason_ to want him dead.

Walking back through the mess Terros had made was daunting, a walk made all the more clumsy by the cracks and scores in the ground that Terros had made to try and trap Grillby. The elemental stepped down on something and tripped once, landing with a heavy _oof!_ next to a pile of shredded human. Grillby scowled at the little piece of offending weapon that he’d tripped over, only to blink down in bewilderment when he saw it. It was the broken shaft of some weapon, carved ornately with little runes and messages. Grillby picked it up delicately in his hands, turning it over in the light. It… looked like a staff.

Grillby stood, scuffling a foot across one pile or another of offal and discarded armor. He didn’t find any more of it. But… he did find…

Grillby knelt down to grab up the cracked little stone just as Terros called back to him to ask what he was doing. Without a second thought Grillby slipped the items in his inventory, and then jogged to catch up.

“Terros,” he asked as they walked, “Do you remember what you felt while you were at the beacon?”

Terros blinked at him quietly, “I… n… no.”

He thought back for a moment, and then shook his head, “Just… felt like something was wrong.”

With a puzzled frown Terros lapsed into silence, and Grillby followed.

“We’re going to get this sorted out, Terros. I promise.”

The walk back to the King’s encampment was quiet, long, and tense.  Though Grillby could at least be grateful that no more snow fell while they walked. For now the winter seemed to have parted for them, offering nothing but barren landscape and the occasional patch of slush.

In the silence that passed between the two elementals, Grillby’s mind was racing, trying to figure out what he was going to say and what to do. He was _sure_ this was a mage’s staff. So sure his soul _ached_ over it. The little gemstone was cracked, but it still buzzed with the faintest magic! He _knew_ it did. That _must_ have been what Terros felt was wrong! But… but humans didn’t know how to control elementals - or any monster for that matter. There was no magic in the world that could do that other than blue, and even that magic was merely just a nudge in one direction or another. It couldn’t make a monster snap and kill things.

And besides, if this was a _human spell_ that had caused this, why had they cast it on Terros? Why bother, if they knew it would kill _everyone?_

And who would believe Grillby? He was obviously desperate… desperate to keep Terros from getting dispelled. And he was just an elemental. Did his word even mean anything in this?

Grillby shook his head. He needed to speak to Thetis. If there was new human magic going around, she’d know about it. _She_ could help him. _She_ could figure out what he needed to say and what he needed to do. Or at the very least he’d have someone from the outside looking in who could slap him and tell him he was being ridiculous.

But Grillby didn’t feel ridiculous about this. He felt _passionate_ , intent and determined. He wasn’t about to watch another one of his friends get killed.

The minute the camp came into view Grillby was off and searching for her, much to Terros’ dismay. The stone elemental could hardly keep up with Grillby as he searched through the camp. For a few seconds he almost had to wonder if she wasn’t there at all. He couldn’t find any ghosts to ask, and he was too scared to ask any other commanders. Brigg. He should find Brigg! Brigg would know right?

Grillby heaved a sigh of relief when he made his way to Brigg’s side of camp. Relief that quickly turned into confusion when he saw the dragon monster towering over Thetis and a ghost of hers, both of them obviously talking earnestly. Grillby slowed to a halt just behind them, Terros sputtering nervous complaints about how they were in the wrong place.

Brigg caught the flickering of movement first, and gasped out a surprised spark, “Boy what the hell are you doing here?!”

Thetis spun to face him the minute Brigg spoke, looking the strangest mix of ecstatic and nervous Grillby had ever seen in his life.

“Grillby!” Thetis barked, “You should… you shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I’m sorry, sorry,” Grillby said with a breath of smoke, “I just… look it’s a long story but I need some help. Uh… as soon as you’re… free.”

The ghost was _distracting_ , sizing Grillby up with an ever-growing smile. It made him flicker uncomfortably.

“It’s urgent,” Grillby started again a bit slowly, turning his attention back to Thetis, “I need you to tell me-”

“ _You’re_ Grillby the _Mage-Slayer?”_

Grillby flinched back a step as the ghost suddenly came flying towards his face, pausing for just an instant there before flying around Grillby in a tight spiral, looking every inch of him over.

“Well well _well!”_ he tutted as he flew before finally floating back towards Thetis and Brigg, “Maybe that spazz really _wasn’t_ as crazy as I thought he was! You know, he said he had friends in high places, and I’m going to be _really_ honest here and say I didn’t believe a word of it. Glad I followed up though!”

Grillby blinked uncomprehendingly, “What?”

He looked over to Thetis, who was watching him with pensive unease, “What is he talking about?”

“Grillby,” Thetis sighed, “Look just… don’t get your hopes up okay?”

“My hopes up for _what?”_

Thetis motioned a hand towards the ghost for him to speak, and the specter let out a shriek of a laugh, along with what Grillby could only assume was a bow. It looked more like an amorphous bobbing than anything else.

“The name is Ker,” he said enthusiastically, “And I think I’ve found someone who belongs to you!”

He cheesed a grin, “Assuming he’s still alive, anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me. :)
> 
> In a bit more seriousness! There's a lot going on here and I apologize for that! In a perfect world I should've split this up into two chapters. But! I! Really wanna get to the next part! So badly! So much has to happen! Holy fuck!
> 
> Aaaaand also some fun-facts about the Terros/Grillby fight! This has actually been a LONG TIME COMING. Originally, I was going to have Grillby/Terros get into a good 'ol spar back when they first met, at Gaster's suggestion. But at the end of the day, I didn't know how to meander the conversation/events naturally in that direction and still leave room for the discord involving the whole "purpose" thing! So it was cut. THEN I was gonna have them fight together in a scene before the last large battle when they were walking to the battle grounds. There was gonna be mages in the woods, and it was going to be an introduction to the White Beam of Death (tm) that would later kill the King. But! I wanted everything involved in the King's death to be a surprise, so I cut it. Then I was going to have them sparring in some kind of forced training montage during the time leading up to Grillby getting his title! AND I CUT IT AGAIN. Because it didn't make sense there, and it was really REALLY useless there. 
> 
> And then an event needed to happen, that's going to be important later. And wouldn't you know it, Terros is the PERFECT guinea pig.  
> And so, the Grillby/Terros fight has finally manifested itself in the plot!  
> The poor baby is probably gonna have a good dose of PTSD after this. 
> 
> Ahhhhhh honestly sometimes I feel like every chapter I add onto this mess I keep making it worse whoops. Someone help me I'm drowning myself in terrible plot ideas.


	57. Being helpful is painful - trust me on this one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a switch in perspective.
> 
> Don't worry, he's just as confused as everyone else is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow guys, I'm so sorry to say this but uh... the next chapter won't come out till next year! Sorry! //soft laughing noises//
> 
> No but seriously Happy New Year everyone! I won't be updating again until 2017! Man... it feels... weird... I spent the entire year writing fanfic? And you spend the entire year reading it! What a time to be alive!

When he woke for the first time all he knew was pain. Everything was a befuddlement of sick and hazy motion and subtle agony. It fractured through his skull, throbbed with a heartbeat he didn’t have. It corkscrewed through every bone and sent an ache through his teeth.

Staying conscious was an effort that wasn’t worth being bothered with.

He slipped away into something like sleep, but even through the haze of it he could feel the _hurt_ in his body. It filled his dreams with nightmares of bright flashes and screaming and chaos and dust. Or maybe that dust wasn’t just a dream, because he was sure he could smell it everywhere. It filled his mouth with the taste of grit and despair and it bit at the inside of his skull with a sharp and acrid touch. Every time he breathed in it sent the smell of dust stabbing through his senses, cold and stinging.

He didn’t wake again until a persistent itch roused him. Well it… wasn’t really an _itch_ , but compared to everything else he felt, it was easy to describe it that way. It was… warm whatever it was. A pathetic trickle of relief that tugged at his senses and asked him gently to wake up again. With its call came a smothered sense of awareness, of movement: a slow rocking and jostling.

Ahh… the world wasn’t supposed to move this much. It was supposed to be stable.

One particularly hard jostle in whatever was moving him reawakened the fire in his body and he let out a low and painful groan. Gods. Whatever was helping him wasn’t enough. It was barely enough to torture him with the idea of comfort, of what _painlessness_ felt like while agony wrapped up everything his little lifeline wasn’t touching. And his head hurt. Oh his head hurt _a lot_. He was almost dizzy from the pain of it, and every time the thing beneath him moved a pain went shooting from his eye and fractured out across every tooth and every piece of his skull.

A soft voice hushed him and asked him kindly to go back to sleep.

The third time he woke he felt nauseous and _empty_. Probably nauseous _because_ he was empty. But he wasn’t hurting quite as much as he had been before. This was the first time he was fully aware of his surroundings - though every inch of his senses was still coated in a persistent layer of pain. He was aware of every part of his body that touched the floor of whatever rocking structure was carrying him, and how much that contact chafed and burned in every bone and joint. He was lying on his back, and there was a stiffness in his spine that said he’d been there for a while.

Right. He’d… been lying here long enough. He needed… oh gods everything was sore… he needed to move. Could he move? Honestly he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d lost some limbs - or maybe he would. If he’d lost something he wouldn’t be feeling quite as painful. Or maybe just painful in a different way.

His first experiment was simple. He opened his eyes.

 _Gods_ , bad idea! The world around him was dimly lit and blurry, but somehow altogether _too bright_ and _too sharp_ at the same time. He flinched, a body-and-soul jerk of a movement while his arms moved altogether too fast and too slow in an effort to shield his sight. _Another_ bad idea. The minute the fabric of his clothes brushed against his face, every piece of his skull lit up with pain. Burning, aching, biting, anything _painful_ could be, _pain_. He hissed in a sharp breath when he felt it, only to flinch against the motion when the cold air rushing into his skull made everything _worse_. It yanked a bitter cry from his mouth, soft and hoarse and wincing.

Oh _gods_ what was _wrong_ with him? What the hell _happened?!_

Still whimpering pathetically, his eyes starting to sting and water, he gingerly felt a hand across his face. He sucked in another painful breath when his fingers danced across an angry wound. Ow ow _ow!_ Well, that would explain why all of this was a little… _familiar_. He felt again, delicately, tracing the path of the wound as it gouged its way across his skull. It was lilted and jagged, tracing a painful arc all the way down from his eye socket to his upper jaw. There it split back between two of his teeth, towards the inside of his mouth.

Ow. Eating right now was probably a bad idea. Talking was _also_ probably a bad idea, which bothersome - he had a million questions he wanted to ask _somebody_.

Well, looking on the bright side! At least scars made him look cool - otherwise his face would be ruined with _two_ of them.

Alright, next experiment.

The lights of his eyes blinked to life again, and now that he was a little more prepared for the unfortunate nature of his sight, it was a little more bearable. Still, just _seeing things_ was painful. And blurry, more in his left eye than his right, for obvious reasons. The strange distortion of focus in his vision pooled more tears in his eye sockets, an infuriating and magic-fueled response that only served to agitate his new wound further. And leaving that eye closed didn’t help at all. Well… maybe it helped his vision a little.

He already knew his arms could move - thank gods - and that nothing on them was broken. A small miracle he was grateful for. So he used them to push himself up, trying to sit. The movement was weak and his _whole body_ cried against it. His head felt heavy and limp and _painful_ , the stiffness in his body sent aches reverberating through every bone that all seemed to bounce back and coalesce in the base of his spine. When his legs folded to support his movement, they were slow to respond and filled with the groaning reluctance of something waking from a thousand-year sleep. And his ribs hurt. His ribs hurt a lot. Almost as much as his spine but not _quite_.

 _Oh_ he hoped he hadn’t broken something. Well… nothing really _felt_ broken, just bruised to all hell, but sometimes you couldn’t tell these things until you were staring at them.

Maybe if he didn’t look, his denial would magically heal whatever was wrong!

He sat there for a few minutes, head bowed towards his chest and both of his eyes screwed shut in an effort to calm all the aches that had crawled to life across his body. He kept his arms braced against the floor of… _whatever_ he was in, in the hopes that it would stop some of the persistent jostling that was now agitating the hell out of his spine. He let out a painful groan when it didn’t help and curled forward in on himself. Yeah, that didn’t help much either. It took a small bit of the pressure off, but where the ache from the pressure stopped the burning from the stretch started. Maybe he should lie back down. Sleep for a couple years. That would help. At the very least it would lessen the full-body, after-battle hangover he was apparently having.

“You’re awake?” a shuddering whisper sounded from beside him, and he turned his head to the voice. A small mouse monster was crawling towards him, her eyes wide and worried, “You shouldn’t be up.”

“Probably not,” he muttered in response, and regretted it instantly. The movement of his mouth _hurt_ , and the vibration of sound through his skull was like the stinging of a thousand crawling ants that devolved into a throbbing ache, crescendoing on itself the minute the sound stopped. Oh bad idea. _Oh_ bad idea!

Good thing he knew a sign language that literally no other monster in the world could understand! Great! His hands twitched in a few silent, shaking curses that his mouth was too pain-filled to scream out loud.

The mouse monster eased him back down again, fretting at him softly, “There, there lay back down. It’ll be okay.”

Why was it every time someone told him things were okay he got the distinct feeling everything _wasn’t_ okay? He watched her move as best he could with his good eye, but she was on his mostly-blind side which made him nervous. He didn’t know what she was doing, and that worried him. He could _feel_ her hands hovering gently over his face, and then the soft touch of green magic caressed him. It was once again both torturously weak and breathtakingly soothing. She must have been the monster healing him before, while he was still mostly delirious.

“Thank you,” he sighed at her, and she offered a pitiful smile.

“I know it’s not much,” she said humbly, ears tucking against the back of her head, “But… it helps I think.”

“Definitely,” he agreed, happy that he could talk a little freer with her easing the ache in his skull, “What’s your name?”

“Aida,” she whispered timidly, glancing up worriedly at something he couldn’t see before looking back down at him again, “And you?”

“Gaster,” he answered, rolling the word around in his mouth and feeling how foreign it seemed. How long had he been asleep? Even _talking_ felt strange. Or maybe that was just her magic working on his jaw.

“Where are we?”

“Hush,” she crooned, looking worriedly back over her shoulder again, “You must speak _quietly_. They don’t like it when we talk.”

Well, this was getting worse by the second, wasn’t it? Gaster kept his mouth shut and glanced up at the sky… the _ceiling_. That was a ceiling. Was that why everything kept jostling around? Were they in a _wagon?_ Why the hell was he in a wagon? And where was it taking him? And _who_ was taking him there? For the first time since he’d woken, Gaster felt a creeping fear slink its way through his ribcage. Oh _what_ was happening?

He remembered… oh gods what _did_ he remember?

He remembered the battle for sure, and all those mages and… the mage with the staff that looked like it was _made_ with light. Gaster hadn’t thought much of it when he’d seen it - well, not much other than how distractingly _pretty_ it looked for how dangerous it probably was. He’d been surprised when Grillby tossed him to the ground, and got a beautiful look at what fire looked like when it was silhouetted in a light so much impossibly brighter than it was. Apparently fire could cast a shadow; something he’d never really thought was possible.

And then… everything had turned into a burst of magic and wind and he’d probably been sent flying. Yeah, that made the most sense. The explosion of magic had sent him flying and he must of hit something _really hard_ when he landed, since he couldn’t remember anything after that. Well… he fell hard enough to break his face, so really he shouldn’t be surprised that he couldn’t remember hitting the ground.

Now he was here, being healed by a monster he’d never met before who _definitely_ didn’t look like a soldier, rocking around in a wagon driven by someone who didn’t like it when he talked. He’d either been picked up and cared for by a random band of noise-sensitive gypsies, and was in for lovely banter, drunken fights and random outbursts of song - or there were humans outside.

Honestly, Gaster preferred the gypsy theory. There was less implied death involved. Hmm well, actually now that he thought about it, gypsies tended to be a little dangerous sometimes. Still, probably the less death-y option.

The mouse let out a tired sigh and moved her tiny hands away from Gaster’s face. Immediately the ache reawakened there, though a bit duller than it had been before. For a few seconds Gaster wondered about the merits to trying to sit up again, and then decided his spine would probably turn to dust in protest if he did and moved his head to look around instead.

Nothing he saw was very promising for the gypsy theory - _damn it_.

He wasn’t alone, for one thing. There were other monsters piled in here, all of them wounded in one way or another - most of them too badly to walk, and most of those unconscious. There was another mouse besides Aida wandering around as well, also brushing monsters with weak green magic and murmuring false promises and comfort. It was the magic and emotional equivalent to feeding bread crusts to an army of starving beggars, just enough to keep a creature alive without really fixing much of anything - especially for the more physical monsters around that were bleeding their magic and insides all over the place. For some monsters, what the little mice were providing obviously wasn’t enough, which would explain the overwhelming smell of dust.

Gaster looked back at Aida, cringing slightly against the pain in the movement, and then giving another preemptive wince when he took a breath to speak.

“I’m a doctor,” he whispered to her and ushered down to his clothes as he did so - which probably looked a lot more like grey rags than a black doctor’s robe right about now, “If you and your friend heal me a bit, I can help you keep the monsters around here alive.”

For a few seconds, Aida looked more than happy to help him. Her little ears perked up a bit, her breath caught as she made to say something. Then she stopped, flicking a nervous sideways glance towards the back of the wagon where the small amount of daylight shone through. She crumpled in on herself, fearful, waiting for something to move into view there that never did.

“ _Please_ ,” Gaster pressed again, trying to ignore the building ache in his _everything_ when he spoke, “Let me help.”

She blinked down at him timidly for a moment, looking terrified and torn, and for a few seconds Gaster thought whatever she was scared of would make her say no. Until she turned and scurried off to her friend on the other side of the wagon. The two of them whispered amongst themselves for a few moments, so softly he could barely make out the edges of their syllables above the creaking of the wagon as it moved. Then they both crept over to him.

“What would you like us to heal?” Aida asked nervously.

Gaster offered her a reassuring smile, “Just use your magic, I’ll do the rest.”

The two mice exchanged dubious looks, but placed their little hands on him regardless. This time the creeping lifeline of magic actually felt _refreshing,_ and it took all of Gaster’s willpower not to just sink into the comforting feeling of pain easing out of his bones.

Instead, with a swift motion he flicked his soul free of his chest and started pulling things apart and weaving them back together again. The green of their magic coursed hesitantly through every strand, and as it worked he directed it into one place or another, letting it heal specific things about himself slowly. He felt the pain in his spine ease, going away from a persistent ache and much closer to a dull, bruise-like throbbing of its former self. Then his ribs, and from the way his chest felt after he must have healed some sort of crack or another. As pestering as his eye and jaw were, they weren’t _crippling_ , so he left them alone, motioning for the two monsters to stop before they exhausted themselves.

This time when Gaster sat up, he could actually _stay_ there. His body still ached and groaned at him in various places, and whatever pain he’d managed to get in his back was still biting at him. But he could sit, he could _move_ , and that meant he could help. Which was good, because the fear radiating off the monsters beside him was infectious, and if he could work then maybe he could ignore it. Not that he wasn’t grateful to them for their help, really he was! But he didn’t need to panic right now, and they _really_ looked like they might at some point, which kind of made him want to as well.

“Is that…” Aida stammered hesitantly, and then sheepishly continued when Gaster looked at her, “Is that… how t-trained doctors heal people?”

Gaster flashed a reassuring smile towards her that he immediately regretted. _Oh_ this face thing was going to be hard to cope with. He was a _really_ expressive monster.

“Special new technique,” he whispered, trying to sound pleasant, “Let’s not tell anyone about it, alright?”

The two mice gave him another fearful, doubtful pair of looks, but they nodded eventually. Well… he _hoped_ he could trust that.

With a grunt Gaster pulled himself onto his knees, clutching at his back when it protested. _Man_ he wished he’d healed that more. He also… kind of wished someone would find some food around here. He was amazing amount of exhausted and hungry. He doubted he could even conjure up his own magic like this - which in hindsight was probably the point of no food being passed around.

Assuming the gypsy theory was indeed out, and he still kind of hoped it wasn’t.

Gaster gave a silent motion for one of the mice to follow him, which Aida did. He crawled his way over to the nearest monster, trying not to make pathetic whining noises every time he moved something the wrong way. He crouched beside the monster he’d picked, waiting for Aida to shuffle up beside him. She rested her little hands on them and started her slow trickle of magic, and Gaster snatched up their soul.

It took some muddling around, but eventually he found the cracks he was looking for and guided Aida’s magic where it needed to go. On the outside he remained stoic - for fear of breaking his face in half if he smiled again. But on the _inside_ , he couldn’t help but feel elated when the monster’s bleeding stopped. Aida watched in amazement when it did.

“How are you doing that?” she asked quietly, a bit awestruck, “I… couldn’t do that before.”

Could he make it through an explanation? No, probably not. But he could try, he guessed.

“Green magic goes everywhere, heals everything slowly,” he said simply, trying to concentrate through the building ache in his skull, “I’m making it heal one place.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, looking both like she understood perfectly and not at all. He’d have to leave it a mystery for now. Tears were starting to sting at his eye sockets again, and with every word he spoke the ache in his skull was building to something unbearable. Instead he motioned for her to follow, and he moved on to the next monster.

They didn’t make it far. Even when Aida switched out with her friend, their tiny pool of magic was _nothing_ compared to what Gaster needed to really heal these monsters. It was all he could do to ease their breathing and stop their bleeding all over the place. At least little things like this could keep them from constantly leeching away and wasting hp. If he had Grillby here, he could’ve healed them all back to full health and more.

Oh gods, _Grillby and Ammy_. They must be worried sick about him… if… if they were _alive_ to worry. That mage’s magic had been so shattering and powerful. He hoped they were okay. Obviously if Gaster was alive, they had to have a chance right? He was the weakest one in the group. So, he shouldn’t worry, right?

Oh gods. He was worrying. _Oh_ he was worrying.

When none of the three of them could continue healing, Gaster resituated himself on the floor of the wagon and was content to let the steady movement rock him to sleep. Or wait for them to hit a hole in the road hard enough to knock him out. Either option worked really. It took him awhile to actually sleep though. He was too achy and nervous, scared for his situation, scared for his friends, scared for the monsters unconscious or crying in pain around him.

For a few seconds he had to wonder if… if he was really going to survive this. Whatever _this_ was.

When Gaster awoke again to loud shouting erupting around him. For a few seconds he panicked, wondering if something was happening - only to sigh with relief when he realized the tones were harsh but not _angry_. They were calling the wagons to a stop. He sat up slowly, his wakefulness bringing the angry pains in his skull and his spine back to his attention. He watched as the mice ran to the back of the cart expectantly, waiting as someone came around to speak with them.

A human.

Welp, so much for the gypsy theory. The denial was nice while it lasted.

“Alright, monsters, _out,_ ” the man commanded gruffly, ushering with his hands as well and yelling, “Out! Out now!”

Around him, some of the monsters were stirring. The ones that _could_ anyway. Most of them blinked uncomprehendingly, scared and confused. Right. Gaster was probably the only one in here that could actually _understand_ the language being spoken.

He should… probably keep that a secret for now.

Gaster waited while the man shouted at them to move again, trying his best to look like he had no idea what they were saying. He waited until eventually someone else move passed him, limping and dragging and sore, and he followed suit. A handful of them managed to shuffle out of the back and into the grey daylight of an overcast day. Gaster groaned when he stood to his feet for the first time in he honestly had no idea how long. _Gods_ he was glad he’d healed his back the little that he had. If he hadn’t, he probably would’ve collapsed to the ground where he stood.

The air was colder out here with no tarp draped over the huddled monsters to break the wind and trap in their heat. Gaster didn’t mind it much - being a skeleton made him pretty tolerant to the weather. Monsters around him were shivering though, and he frowned at it.

They weren’t the only monsters out here.

There was another wagon pulled up beside them, where more of the wounded monsters were spilling out. In their wagon and in Gaster’s as well, there were several forms that didn’t move - either too far unconscious to wake, or in too much pain to shuffle outside. His soul felt sick just looking at them. They needed _help_ , or they needed put out of their misery. Keeping them half-dead like this was just cruel.

The wagons had stopped in the middle of nowhere; they weren’t even on a real path - which would explain the rough ride. He was surprised they hadn’t broken an axle trying to blaze a trail through the mess of rocks and dirt and twisting tree roots. They were still in the hills _somewhere_ , though Gaster had no idea where they were. And they were surrounded by humans. Human _soldiers_. Oh jeez. There must be a whole unit or more of them trudging around, looking footsore and unpleasant. They easily outnumbered the monsters they were transporting - not that they _had_ to. With so many wounded, there was no way the monsters would be fighting for their freedom anytime soon.

Not unless they were suicidal anyway.

The humans didn’t seem to be making camp, and honestly they’d be foolish if they did. The sun was still high up in the sky. It looked like they were just breaking for some sort of lunch and to rest their feet from their walking. Which also meant feeding the animals pulling the carts, and the monsters along with them.

 _Thank heavens._ Except… it didn’t look like they had _monster food_.

Monster food was different than human food, Gaster knew that much. It was _magical_ , somehow. He didn’t know _exactly_ how. He’d never researched the science behind it, and he burned everything he cooked anyway so it never really mattered to him. But he _did_ know that monster food was basically energy. They absorbed it right into their souls. That’s how it could heal them.

Human food was different. _Some_ monsters could eat it, but only the ones with the right, human-like insides to actually break it down and turn it into the magical energy they needed. Gaster was a skeleton. He could eat _monster food_. Not _human food_. And he tried not to be too obviously disappointed by that fact when the humans started passing scraps around. Honestly right now he’d eat just about _anything_ if it meant he’d get rid of the empty feeling in his nonexistent stomach and regain some of the magic that was supposed to be in his soul. His body had used too much of his magic on crying and trying - and failing - to heal itself.

What a waste of energy!

So instead of eating nasty human food, Gaster sat quietly with the rest of the functioning monsters, trying to listen in on the conversations around him as inconspicuously as possible. Most of what he heard was useless, just regular soldier banter about how the food they were eating tasted like garbage - _they should be grateful they could eat it!_ \- and that the walk was tiring. A couple mentioned the camp they were going to, some _Rune-Make Fortress_ that Gaster could only assume was a prison camp of some sort. Where _else_ could they be dragging a bunch of wounded monsters, other than a prison camp? He didn’t know why they _bothered_ with monster prisoners, but at least he was alive. If that was even a reliable upside to all of this. He hadn’t really decided yet.

Shouting broke the monotony of the conversations around him, and Gaster turned to see for what was going on - sorely, given that both his head and his back hurt every time he looked anywhere. The human that had ordered them out of the carts was the one that was yelling, irate and red-faced. Oh _gods_ he was screaming at Aida and her… uh… friend? Family member of some sort? Whatever. The two of them were cowering in front of him while he berated them about… _healing the monsters?_ Wasn’t that their _job?_ Why else were they in the wagon?

As Gaster listened he realized the man wasn’t yelling about them just healing people, it was about healing them too much - which was _absurd_ because they’d just stopped some _bleeding_ for heaven’s sakes and - he didn’t know when he’d stood up but he did. The soreness in his body brought his mind back to what he was doing. Gaster hesitated just long enough to decide this was a bad idea and he shouldn’t be drawing attention to himself - which was long enough for the man to make a motion that looked a _lot_ like he was going to kick one of the poor monsters at his feet.

Gaster took a bracing breath and ran, jerking his way past the handful of distracted humans that were talking nearby. _Oh_ this hurt. This hurt _a lot_. His back was shooting aches all the way up to his neck, and he’d apparently been out longer than he _thought_ he’d been, because his legs felt weird and wobbly beneath him. But by some miracle he managed to keep up his pace instead of tripping over his own two feet and curling up on the ground in pain.

And at the end of the day an achy back was worth it if it meant these two monsters weren’t dusted because he was trying to be _helpful_.

“Wait! Stop a second!” Gaster gasped in the man’s direction when he was a few strides away, and then winced as he stopped. Right, he probably didn’t speak the monster language. His dizzy mind was halfway through stumbling for a translation when a fist he didn’t see coming connected with his face. Gaster fell with an inglorious scream, and when he crumpled to the ground the pain in his back met the blinding agony spiraling through his skull.

Oh gods _what was he thinking_ charging up to a _human_ and _yelling at them?!_

Through tear-streaked and blurring vision Gaster managed to glance up at the human towering over him. He was pulling a wicked looking blade out of the sheath at his hip, and if Gaster weren’t hurting so badly he’d be scrambling away from him. Or maybe trying to figure out what to say to get him to _stop._ As it was his mind was mostly blank, focused a bit too much on the picture in front of him that refused to focus completely, and that was moving entirely too fast for him to stop.

By some stroke of luck or a dumb miracle or something else, someone intervened, stepping in between them before the angry human could break Gaster’s face even more than it already was.

“What are you _doing?!”_ they demanded, which was a bit hilarious given how obvious the human’s intent was. Maybe Gaster wasn’t the only half-blind thing walking around here.

“You saw it!” the man raged, “That thing attacked me!”

He took an imposing step forward, like he might bully his way past the human that was stopping him - but the man that had stopped him was persistent. Even daring to put a stalling hand on the arm of the enraged swordsman.

Then he hissed, “That _thing_ belongs to the Wraithblaze.”

Both humans looked down at Gaster, and for a few seconds he had to wonder if he’d heard them wrong. He… belonged to _what?_

“They want it _alive_.”

There was an ominous pause, before the human that had stopped the other stepped away, “But if _you_ want to bring a pile of dust back to camp instead, go right ahead.”

All the former rage and bluster that the man had was gone, replaced by something thoughtful and wary. He watched Gaster for a few seconds, as suspicious as if he were watching some poisonous snake coiled up at his feet. Then with a huff he sheathed his sword, and stalked past the human stopping him.

“ _Fine_.”

What? No death? _Seriously?_ Well that was a reli-

The man sent one bitter kick towards Gaster’s ribs as he walked past, and with a painful wheeze he crumpled around it. _Rude._ And… also really, _really_ painful… gods...damn… _ow_ ….

If he had the strength and the lack of common sense it took to glare after the angry creature, Gaster would have! Instead he kind of… settled on curling up as small as he could on the ground and just… praying things stopped hurting eventually. And tried not to make gross whining noises whenever he breathed the wrong way. At length the camp’s little break was called to a close. Someone picked him up and threw him in the back of the wagon, eliciting a long string of half-formed and bitter curses from the skeleton when they did.

Well, whoever this _Wraithblaze_ was, he hoped they didn’t care if he showed up at their doorstep in pieces, because it sure _felt like_ he was about to fall apart.

The wagon creaked into motion, and Gaster waited drearily for the jolting movement to make him sleep again. The mice stubbornly ignored him as they went about their dismal healing, and as much as he _wanted_ to be bitter at them for it he… really couldn’t blame them. He’d gotten them in trouble with their captors, which in his limited experience was a _very bad idea_ , and… probably would’ve ended up in one or both of them getting dusted, honestly. He wanted to feel good about intervening and stopping that from happening, but really he just felt sore. Sore and a bit regretful. Next time he should just… keep his head down. Yeah, that was… probably for the best.

Gaster shouldn’t have been going around healing people. He should’ve known better, given the situation they were in. But his common sense had left him. He wanted to _help_. And he _could help_. It was unfair that his trying to make the monsters’ lives a little less miserable just ended in hurting people! And hurting himself. For heaven’s sakes, it's not like any pitiful healing he could do would make anyone here _threatening_. They were starved for food and magic, without any weapons, surrounded by twice their number in human soldiers…!

Gaster let out a miserable sigh. It was better to just not think about it. He should just sleep. And he did, eventually, after the reawakened throbbing in his body calmed itself down as much as it was going to and he forced his scattered thoughts to halt. He stirred once or twice when the wagons stopped again, breaking to make camp for the night and then at midday the next day. He didn’t bother getting up, and no one made him - though Aida did finally meander back over to him once to trickle some of her healing magic across him. He’d waved her away when she did. There were more miserable monsters in this place she should be taking care of.

He didn’t bother to rise again until the group of humans and monsters stopped the final time, and humans _forced them_ to get out. Gaster stepped outside, sore and exhausted, expecting to see the gates of some camp in front of him - which he did see.

What he wasn’t expecting was the halo of light that rimmed the entire place in flickering white. It was like… a _wall_. A protective bubble that was cast around the roughly built wooden walls of the structure. What… what kind of magic _was_ that? Whatever it was, the humans weren’t impressed. In fact, they looked like this kind of thing was _normal_. If it weren’t for the monsters around Gaster gawking at it just as much as he was, he’d think his torn up vision was making him see things. The wagons were left outside the gate, and with some prodding from the soldiers behind, the monsters passed through the wall of light. Gaster shuddered as the gates opened and he was led into the camp beyond.

Oh, gods. What mess had he managed to get himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jump cut!
> 
> It'll be a couple chapters till we get back to Grillby. ;)  
> Sorry for those of you who were waiting on a happy and tearful reunion! You're gonna be waiting a _little bit longer_! Poor Gaster doesn't know it yet, but a lot is about to happen.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Okay so, this chapter was weird for a lot of reasons. Mostly because EVERYTHING IS PAIN. Ahaha no but seriously. When I write, I try really hard to pull from past experience. It makes things more believable, and relatable as well! So trying to write _this?_ Interesting. And I coped with it by pouring a lot of my own sarcastic humor at bad situations into Gaster XD Poor guy.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Also a bit of an update on uhhhh -- life! I will be getting back into classes on the week of the 9th! So! This coming week will be the last week with double chapters, at least until I figure out how my class load is going to go this semester! I'm not taking studio classes this time around, so I _might_ be able to handle pumping out like... three chapters every two weeks or something I dunno. We'll have to wait and see!


	58. Shouldn't we be concerned with the kid who obviously knows too much?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a call for help is prepared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a smol fanart feature this time :3 Both literally and figuratively!
> 
> Procrastinatingbookworm on tumblr has come back for us with a couple doodles from last chapter! One is of [ Gaster just overall being miserable](http://theblogofcastingrain.tumblr.com/post/155214362467/procrastinatingbookworm-casting-rain-chapter), which is kinda going to be a running theme for a bit ahaha. And the second is of [poor timid little Aida](http://theblogofcastingrain.tumblr.com/post/155214309142/procrastinatingbookworm-more-casting-rain-fanart), who really just kinda wishes she were away from all this noise.

Gaster had always heard stories about hell. They were kind of fascinating really, what different people thought _true misery_ looked like, what holy justice was supposed to entail. What the loss and torture of the very _soul_ felt like. And while he’d never heard stories of hell being _quite_ like this, he still thought all the other stories he’d heard… lost their impact when compared to… _this_. If he were ever asked, he probably couldn’t ever explain rightly why. Why _this place_ stood out to him as _hellish_ so much. He’d seen _war_ ; he’d been face to face with death and those dying. He’d fought _mages_ and not been stricken so badly by the feeling of malicious, jittering energy that clung like some stifling miasma to his bones as he was led along. An overwhelming, childish dread wrapped around his soul; one very much like that young, fearful wonder he’d felt when he heard his first stories of hell.

And Gaster _knew_ the feeling was irrational, which was what made it so much more consuming, that much more _nerve wracking._ He couldn’t talk himself out of feeling this way if he tried - and he _did_ try. _Insistently_. He knew what humans looked like when they settled. He’d been to human towns, he’d seen cities. And while this fortress was rougher than any of those things had ever been, it was still _just human_. There were tents and a few cabins. There was trash and filth that cluttered some places and was being moved out of others. There were fires for cooking and warmth. It should all be familiar. The circumstances were terrible yes, but the _place_ should have some semblance of normalcy.

It was the _wrongness_ in it terrified him. There were no families here, only soldiers and their weapons. There was no _comfort_ , only washed out tones of grey and brown. Everything seemed coated in a layer of dust and wretchedness, as if every wall and fiber were sculpted from the ash and smoke from their campfires. Everywhere Gaster looked, he was met with bitter stares of resentment in his direction, sneers of detest. As he and the others walked, some people spat at them, cursed and threw things. The word _monster_ curled off their tongues as if it were something insidious and disgusting. Something past the prejudice against the inhuman. Something past animal or object. Something acidic and vile like the rotting bile in a dead man’s stomach. Something _deserving_ of whatever punishment this place planned on giving them.

_Monster._

The intent in the air was suffocating, and Gaster almost physically wretched on it.

The shambling, pitiful group of monsters was led to the back of the camp, towards a square of towering wooden walls set apart from their larger, thicker counterpart that encircled the encampment itself: a stockade. The humans drove them inside and slammed the doors shut behind them.

Gaster cast his gaze around the place.

There was a little fire pit in the center of their prison, and a rather pathetic looking stack of cooking supplies. At least the humans here seemed to recognize that monsters needed to be fed something _different_ , if they were willing enough to let them cook for themselves. Their floor was dirt, cold and frozen from the drop in temperature over the previous uh… days? Weeks? _Week_ maybe? Honestly Gaster had no idea how long they’d been traveling, and it didn’t help that he was mostly unconscious through a good portion of the trip. Maybe if he got a look as some stars he could figure out some guess at how much time had passed, but he doubted whatever light was shielding the camp would afford him a good glance.

Gaster sighed. Tortuous and miserable as this little nook that had been set aside for them must be, it at least shielded their view of the rest of the camp. He was more grateful for that then he thought he’d be. He settled rather sorely in the first corner he could find and waited. And watched. And… worried.

There weren’t any guards. Which was… both troubling and understandable, Gaster guessed. All the monsters here were pretty bad off. Assuming they could even scale the stockade walls, they wouldn’t be running away fast enough to be worth any worry. Maybe… maybe this meant… he could go about healing people? No one was looking now but… what happened when the humans came back to retrieve them? Would they kill him or any of the other monsters when they came back and noticed?

It was honestly the first time in his life Gaster had ever wondered if it was _worth it_ to heal someone, and just thinking about it made him feel like a terrible person. He was a _doctor_ , he was supposed to _help these people_. He should be rushing to help them, no matter the cost to his own well-being! But… was it worth getting killed over? Nobody here was in any obvious danger of falling down. They were cold and in pain and utterly _miserable_ but they weren’t dying. That might change if Gaster healed them. Healing them now might actually mean getting them killed later.

The longer Gaster sat there doing nothing, the worse he felt. He couldn’t bring himself to move, and he couldn’t stop from hating himself for not moving.

He probably couldn’t help anyone anyway, he thought bitterly, trying to console himself a little; the mice had been left with the wagons. Without their extra magic, he doubted he could heal these monsters on his own. He’d probably unravel his soul trying. Gaster huffed out another dreary sigh.

Oh gods, this was going to be _rough_. And… a bit hopeless. Did anyone even know he was here? Ammy and Grillby, would they know to look for him? _Could they_ look for him? Were they even alive to try? A decrepit, lonely sense of hopelessness curled around his soul, so tight and piercing it _physically hurt_. Or maybe that was just the kick in the ribs coming back to haunt him.

“We’re going to die here,” Gaster murmured, trying his best to ignore the taste of the ache in his skull when he did.

“You got that right, buddy!” came an enthusiastic laugh, and it startled Gaster so much he jerked back away from the noise - flinching painfully when the movement sent a jagged ache across his spine.

“ _Wow_ you’re jumpier than the last guy I talked to,” the voice snickered again, and Gaster was at a loss trying to find where the voice was coming from. There were no other monsters even close enough to be talking to him, “Then again, if I remember right, he was _missing a leg._ ”

“Wh-?”

“Down here bonehead!”

Gaster glanced down at his feet, finding absolutely nothing.

“Now look to the _left_ ,” the voice purred at him amusedly, grinning through every syllable, “Come on, it’s like playing hide and seek, except I’m _telling you_ where I’m hiding! Aren’t I great?”

Gaster looked around, frowning in annoyance when all he saw was a cup that someone had scattered over here at some point.

“Well what do ya know, you found me!”

“A… talking cup,” Gaster muttered dubiously.

“You know, as fun as it would be to convince you that you’re crazy and the cup _is in fact_ talking, I think I’ll pass this time around,” the voice chuckled from the direction the cup was sitting, “It is I, Ker! The fantastic and amazing cup ghost inhabiting this cup! Drink from me and _die!_ Or at least have everything taste like ectoplasm. You know, that’s an option.”

“A ghost…?” Gaster asked, a fluttering of hope reigniting in his chest.

“Do you need me to talk slower?” he asked so genuinely Gaster almost missed his sarcasm, “Jeez kid, I thought just your _face_ was broken. Yes. I. Am. A -”

“But that means you know Thetis!” Gaster said quickly, cringing when the sentence started spreading the ache further across his face.

“ _Know_ her? She’s my boss kid,” Ker said, and Gaster noticed his voice was much less enthusiastic than before as he said it, “She’s the one who sent me out here! Go figure out where they’re keeping the monsters she says. Well I _found_ them. Oh _trust me_ I _found_ them! And they keep coming and going. People don’t survive over here long, not sure if you’ve noticed that yet.”

For now, Gaster ignored the last comment, “Wait so, that means you can get help?”

“Wow that’s a great idea!” Gaster was already growing weary of the ghost’s overwhelming sarcasm, “Wish I would’ve thought of that! Oh wait - actually I _did_ think of that. Turns out that big glowing wall up there isn’t just to make things look cool.”

Gaster frowned up at the sky, where that white light still pulsed gently, “What?”

“It’s a barrier kid,” Ker explained matter-of-factly, “Pretty easy to slip inside, but as soon as you wanna get out, it’s like running head-first into a brick wall. Or I guess that’s what it probably feels like. I’m gonna be really honest and say I don’t run into things. Ever.”

Gaster scowled, confused, “But that doesn’t make any-”

He cut off abruptly when a clamor rose up from the stockade doors. Slowly they started to creak open, and a handful of soldiers poured inside. One man directed them, pointing out monsters to take. He ushered in Gaster’s direction.

“Whoops, _that_ didn’t last long!” Ker laughed from his cup, “Well it was nice knowing ya, bonehead.”

Gaster felt a wave of panic rise up in his chest.

“ _What?”_

“Oh yeah, when they take you out of here you never come back,” Ker responded in a voice so enthusiastic and pleasant it made Gaster feel sick, “But hey look on the bright side, being dust is _completely_ painless!”

“No no _no no!”_ Gaster breathed, shuffling back into the wall behind him when one of the humans turned to walk his direction.

He wanted to run, oh _gods_ he _needed to run_. But he was too sore to stand up and move past the human lumbering towards him. Gaster cringed beneath the hands that grabbed him and dragged him to his feet. With a shout from the soldier he was sent stumbling out of the gate, along with two other unfortunate monsters that happened to be picked. Gaster looked around frantically for some kind of escape as they walked but - ! The sky cast another ominous pulse across the ground. There was… no way he was getting out of here. If he ran where would he go? Straight into the barrier. Assuming he could even run more than ten steps before his body hurt him too much to move.

Oh gods. Oh… _gods_. What were they even going to _do_ to him? What could they possibly _do_ that forced them to travel all this way just to kill off the monsters _anyway?_ Gaster hugged his arms close to his chest, hoping to at least conceal his frantic breathing and sooth the aches in his ribs that answered the panicked motion. He didn’t want this. _He didn’t want this to happen._ He wanted his _friends_. He wanted Grillby and Amathea to come break down the gates and help him. Gods, he’d even be happy to see _Brigg._

The soldiers corralling him and the two other monsters brought the three to a halt at what looked to be… a sparring circle? Except it was… completely littered with dust. What… what _was_ this? It was just a circle drawn in the dirt, probably sometime when the weather was warmer and the ground wasn’t too cold to work with. On its outsides were carved a few runes and associated symbols, things Gaster could only blink at uncomprehendingly. He’d learned human language easy enough, but had never had the time to study rune work. Whatever it was, it looked complicated.

On the other side of the circle stood three other humans, looking rather bored with whatever was about to happen. All of them had staffs, each studded with a glowing stone of a different color.  Gaster sighed out a shuddering breath and flicked his gaze to his feet. Well, what else was he expecting, honestly?

 _Mages_. They were _mages_. And from the looks of it, one of them was _already_ angry.

Gaster watched as one of the mages paraded his way around the circle to them, scowling, eyes flickering with the color of their staff. It was startling blue, and sent a tingling of magic through the air as they approached. One of the humans beside Gaster shuffled a bit uncomfortably, scowling. Apparently humans liked their mages about as much as monsters did.

The mage gestured rather wildly in their direction, _Gaster’s_ direction, specifically, “ _What is this?_ We told you to bring back monsters with _strong magic.”_

“This _is_ a monster with strong magic, sir,” came the… incredibly annoyed reply. _Wow_. Brigg would probably smack him if Gaster talked to the commander like that. Though it… _was_ a bit flattering to have someone say he had good magic, he guessed. A little _terrifying_ , given the circumstances, but still an ego boost he was willing to take.

The mage raised an unamused eyebrow, and if the situation weren’t as bad as it was, Gaster might have laughed at it. He continued patronizingly, “Tell me, what kind of monster _is this?”_

“A skeleton monster, sir.”

“And what are skeleton monsters known for?”

Gaster blinked. Skeleton monsters were known for something? That was new. Most humans didn’t tend to pay them any mind. Then again, it had been a _long time_ since Gaster had spent any decent amount of time with humans, so things had probably changed since then.

“Pretty weak alone but persistent in groups,” the soldier rehearsed, as if they’d been over this a thousand times, and couldn’t believe they were going through it again, “I _understand_ sir but we _saw-”_

“I don’t care what you _saw!”_ the mage snapped, ushering again in Gaster’s direction, “ _This_ is a waste of time and resources!”

“I don’t think it eats, sir.”

“A waste of _time_ then!”

The mage let out a harrumph of a sigh at the overall _inconvenience_ Gaster’s existence seemed to be. For a second he stood there furiously, pinching the bridge of his nose between two of his spindly fingers - they were almost as skeletal as Gaster’s own. Really everything about him looked a bit too gaunt and wiry to be healthy. This man needed to eat more. Hm… he should see a physician.

After a moment the mage shook his head and sighed, taking his staff more firmly in his hands.

“This isn’t worth the effort,” he grumbled, pointing the weapon at Gaster. All of Gaster’s absentminded thoughts dropped out of his head as quickly as if his very soul had been dropped out of his chest - and he surely felt like _that_ had happened as well. A sudden pang of fear froze him in place, watching as the stone on the staff flickered to life with a bright and blaring light. Almost flippantly, the human muttered a spell, and the light on the staff flashed.

Gaster cringed back a step, a shout of stammered disbelief and surprise writhing across his aching teeth. The blinding light of angry magic crashed around his vision --! But it… didn’t touch him. He watched, probably looking every kind of pathetic, hugging himself and huddling small and terrified. Watched as the burst of magic crashed around him harmlessly, flickering white and hot and overwhelming in its intent, warping itself into something like fire before it finally vanished completely.

Gaster let out a shaky sigh he didn’t realize he’d been holding back, something that almost hitched in his chest like a laugh when he realized he was still alive. And from the look on the mage’s face, he was _just_ as surprised as Gaster was.

“ _Bracken!_ ”

The mage let out an exasperated groan, “Oh _come on!”_

He turned to look towards the voice that had called him, and Gaster… didn’t know if he should be relieved or terrified. It was definitely a _mage_ , dressed in clothes that didn’t look at all like a mage’s - that looked a lot more like a regular soldier’s. But the flickering staff was as telling as anything.

“You did this?”

“Yes, I _did!”_ the mage approaching retorted back, and she was all spite and fire with every step. Oh gods, Gaster _recognized her._ What… what was her name? “I _told you_ , I’m supposed to be here for every new cartload of monsters they bring in this place!”

She actually _shoved_ the mage before her, pushing him a few stumbling steps away from Gaster, “And look what you _almost did!”_

She threw an arm back in Gaster’s direction, “ _This_ is the one I’ve been looking for!”

Gaster blinked at her in complete disbelief, but she was too preoccupied with the other mage - _Bracken_ \- to notice or care. _Looking_ for _him?_ Why? He was just a doctor for heaven’s sakes! Sure he’d been with Grillby when they met but - oh gods, _please_ say this had nothing to do with Grillby.

Bracken’s eyebrow was arching up again in a patronizing glare. Apparently he could care less about her shoving him, “Thistle you’re not serious. _This_ is your monster?”

 _Thistle Bayhaven_. The mage with the monster magic.

“Yes,” she answered surely, “We _need_ this monster’s magic. It could win this war for us!”

Thistle scowled when she was met with another look of bitter doubt. She spun to Gaster, brown curls flying, and demanded perfectly in the monster language, “Show him your magic.”

Gaster hesitated, both because of the question and from how jarring it was to hear her sudden switch in language. He’d forgotten she could understand it. After a breath he stammered, “He’ll kill me.”

“Oh trust me, he won’t,” she scowled, the light on her staff crawling to life, vibrant and bleeding red, “But _I will_ if you don’t do what I say.”

Gaster shuffled a step back away from her, fully believing it. Oh gods, his magic felt _sick,_ both from his mounting fear and from the amount of _emptiness_ inside him. He gave an experimental tug, trying to summon _something_ , a bone construct, _anything_. All he felt in reply was the ache of nothingness in his soul. He had _nothing_.

“Any day now, skeleton,” Thistle growled at him, the light on her staff brightening threateningly.

“I can’t!” Gaster answered back quickly, _praying_ she believed him, “I’m sorry I can’t.”

Her staff was getting brighter.

“I’m trying, honestly I am!” Gaster insisted, and just to prove it, he reached for a flicker of _something_ again, only to have it die before it could even manifest, “But I’m… I’ve got _nothing_. I’m completely exhausted. I don’t - I don’t know how _human_ magic works but it’s… ours just stops working if we’re too weak or -”

He trailed off; slowly realizing his effort was fruitless. She wasn’t going to believe him, was she? But… surely if she knew how to use monster-like magic… she should understand…? Thistle glared at him for a long minute, and while her gaze was on him Gaster realized he wasn’t breathing. Everything about him was frozen and waiting for her to snap out a word that would send all of his senses and churning emotions to a screaming halt.

She muttered a word so quickly Gaster hardly had the chance to hear it and faster than Gaster could even _flinch_ he was caged in a brilliant green light. Brilliant, green and _healing_ , and he could hardly believe it. It was the most powerful and consuming healing magic he’d ever felt in his _life_. It was even stronger than little Cris, the girl who had healed him and Grillby when they were lost. Stronger than any monster’s he had ever met in his life. When it died away his soul ached for more of it, not because it _needed_ the magic, but because he felt strangely incomplete when he wasn’t wrapped up in it.

Everything about him had stopped hurting. Everything nauseous and gross his magic was feeling was wiped away as if it had never been there. He slipped a hand up to his face, amazed that the pain was gone and… a bit disappointed that such powerful magic couldn’t make him _completely_ whole again. His face was still patterned with his scars. But they didn’t ache with their previous fury. He could almost believe that they weren’t there at all.

Gaster looked back at Thistle in breathless disbelief, and was met with a glare of steady contempt in return. She ushered towards Bracken and repeated again, low and stern.

“Your _magic_.”

This time when Gaster reached, everything in his soul responded. He grabbed for the largest thing he could touch. Over his shoulder, the bite of building magic in the air grew. His own purple light hummed to life. The air _sang_ with the creature he was building, and as it did, he watched the humans around him take alarmed steps back - all except Thistle, who watched on smugly as the great jaws opened wide and hungry over Gaster’s shoulder. The dragon-like blaster creature gave a loud whine as the magic inside its jaws came to life. With the turn of his wrist, Gaster pointed the beast’s nose up towards the barrier, getting ready to fire it off.

Thistle stopped him, snapping with a grin, “No no. Hit _him_ with it.”

She jabbed a finger in Bracken’s direction, and Gaster couldn’t help but frown at her. She was _insane_. But the light on her staff was still glowing angrily, and he was too scared not to do as she said. He hated everything about this situation - but he hated the thought of being killed even more.

Gaster fired off the charged beam at the mage standing beside her. Bracken reacted immediately, shouting and flinching a shielding spell into existence. Gaster’s magic passed harmlessly across it, rippling out with a rattling wheeze after a few seconds. The light faded out abruptly and Gaster let his creature fizzle out into ash and collapsing magic. He dropped his gaze immediately back to the ground at his feet, trying to hide the grin that was spreading across his teeth.

He’d left a crack in the mage’s shield.

Thistle was laughing, bubbling excitedly in her garbled human speech again, “See? _What_ did I tell you? _This_ is the magic we need, Bracken! Just think about what we could _do_ with this! And that’s just the _monster_ version. With the right spells I bet we could-!”

“Alright _alright,”_ came the terse and bitter reply as the mage tried to reclaim a bit of his disgraced dignity, “Fine. I’ll get everyone gathered up tomorrow; we’ll show them and see where it goes.”

Thistle waved her staff in Gaster’s direction and snapped, “Alright then! Back to the pen with _you_.”

Gaster hesitated. He looked back to the monsters that had been dragged over here with him. They blinked back at him, their expressions a meaningless mix of emotions. They were amazed and they were scared and they were dismal, and any number of other things that Gaster couldn’t rightly see. If they could make some kind of magic that the mages wanted to use… that would save them, wouldn’t it? Could they do that if they were as empty as Gaster had been?

The logical, _doctor_ part of him knew a lost cause when he saw it, even if his soul shuddered at the thought.

Thistle spat a spell in Gaster’s direction, and suddenly he was moving against his own will - wrapped up in some kind of human mockery of blue magic. He stumbled after her as she walked, wishing he could shout something back to the monsters he was leaving behind, but ultimately coming up with nothing he could say. What was he supposed to tell them? That everything would be okay? Saying something as hopelessly wrong as that was cruel.

“Alright, monster - !”

“Gaster,” he corrected reflexively before Thistle could even clear another sentence.

She scowled at him, annoyed, and continued stubbornly, “- if you want to _live_ , impress everyone out there tomorrow.”

“So you can use my own magic against me?” Gaster asked sullenly.

Thistle flashed him a wolfish grin, “Me among others. I’ve been dying to construct that kind of magic for myself ever since I saw you work on the bridge. And when I heard they spotted your elemental in the last offensive -”

“ _Grillby?_ ”

“- I told every cart catching monsters to look for you,” she finished, completely ignoring him, “I am _going_ to learn that magic.”

Gaster felt a squirm of bitterness writhe around in his soul, and he tried to recreate the cold passiveness he’d heard before in Grillby’s voice when he muttered, “I’ll die before I teach it to you.”

The last time he’d heard something that cold in Grillby’s voice was when the elemental was demanding Gaster cross the river by himself to get help. He’d sounded so emotionlessly sure, so strangely, grimly confident. All Gaster sounded was a little less shaky than before - and maybe a little over-dramatic. Thistle _laughed_ at him, a high shrieking sound like angry bells. She stopped him just outside the doors to the stockade, and the magic that had dragged him this distance dropped away from him with a rush.

“Alright then _monster_ ,” she goaded in a voice dripping with contempt and malicious humor, “ _Fall down_ then. Go on! That’s what you monsters do when you want to die, right?”

Gaster blinked at her, at a complete loss for what to say. Thistle just watched him, grinning smugly at his speechless stupor.

“What, no dust?” she teased, “What’s the matter monster? Wouldn’t you rather _die_ then let me learn your magic? Why aren’t you dust yet?”

Gaster felt something regretful and painful wrench around in his soul. It didn’t work like that - and _she knew_ it didn’t work like that! He could hear it in the tone of her voice! Of course he didn’t _want_ to die. That was normal! No one would expect him to… He didn’t want…

“That’s what I thought,” she sneered, grabbing him roughly by the arm. She opened the doors and shoved him inside with all the contempt of a child throwing away a broken toy. The doors slammed shut behind him, and Gaster was left standing there, feeling very much like he was made of the rubbish the humans were shoveling out of their trash heaps.

He was… _scared_. He was _so scared_. And suddenly he was thinking of Grillby and their fight on that stupid bridge. Thinking of those two seconds where Grillby had jumped across the crumbling gap, knowing if he fell he’d die. Knowing if he was trapped on the other side he’d be captured. How _okay_ Grillby had been with sacrificing his life so the humans couldn’t have his magic.

_“It was either jump or get captured, and I’d rather be dead than caught so…”_

Gaster thought the same way then that he thought now - that was a terrifying decision to make for yourself. It was… something that took a lot of resolve and acceptance and… the willingness to lose _everything_ to keep someone safe. The willingness to give up your life for people you didn’t even know. That was a decision an elemental would make. That was a decision _Grillby_ would make.

Gaster... wasn’t Grillby.

Gaster cared too much about his own life. He… was scared in all the wrong ways and selfish in all the right ones. He… didn’t want to die. He wanted _his friends_. He wanted to live to see them again! Was that so wrong? Was it wrong when he knew it meant someday those friends might be running headfirst into Gaster’s own magic as it was being used against them _by a mage?_ Gaster’s soul ached, and with a wince in his step he shuffled further into the cage he’d been thrown in. He settled back in the corner he’d sat in the first time, managing a weak, bitter look of disdain at the little cup that was still setting there.

“Welcome back bonehead!” Ker chimed when Gaster sat beside him, “Man I’m surprised! Monsters like you don’t normally make your way back here.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Gaster muttered, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. He looked dismally up at the flashing barrier that made up their ceiling and then sighed, “Why did this have to happen?”

“Because they’re _humans_ bonehead. They do this stuff because they want to,” Ker answered, his voice a shrug, “But hey look on the bright side! You’re not dead yet!”

“That’s a bright side?”

“You know, now that you mention it, probably not,” Ker said all-too-enthusiastically.

Gaster scowled and didn’t reply, contenting himself with watching the steady pulse of the barrier overhead. He wondered how in the world all these humans could sleep with it up in the sky like that. It must get _annoying_ for the sky to constantly be lit up like a summer’s day, and dangerous to have a shimmering beacon telling the world where they were. Then again, all their nights traveling, Gaster hadn’t seen the light once. Maybe there was something else to the magic, something that kept it hidden? Or maybe they were just too far from any monster armies to worry about keeping it in check - an idea that was as terrifying as it was disheartening.

“Ker, if you saw the barrier while you were coming in, why didn’t you stay away from it?” Gaster asked suddenly, and the little cup beside him chimed a laugh.

“I’m _incorporeal_ , moron!” he said brightly, “I kind of just float through anything. I didn’t assume this wall was going to be any different from _any other wall_ I waltz through!”

“Have you tried breaking it?”

“Kid,” Ker snapped, his voice sharp and tense despite the pleasant undertones still lingering beneath it, “I _would not be here_ if I could break it. I have tried literally everything! But here’s the deal - that thing is fused to a _human soul_. I don’t know much about how all that magic for them works, but I _do know_ it’s a lot stronger than anything you or I could pull off! A lot stronger than the whole army could pull off!”

Gaster frowned, his thoughts turning around what the ghost had said, “It’s fused to a human soul.”

“That _is_ what I said.”

“So it’s… still connected to one then?” Gaster asked, leaning over so he could peer at the cup directly, “It’s like a spell? One that’s constantly being cast?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” Ker asked with an exasperated snort.

“So if someone killed the mage that cast it, the barrier would drop?”

“ _Maybe?”_ Ker snapped, his voice a tense laugh, “But monsters like _you_ can’t kill mages!”

“Yes I can,” Gaster said quickly, and then amended with a bit more nervousness in his voice and his signing, “I mean… it would be _really_ hard to do but… I could kill a mage.”

There was a damning silence that passed between them, and Gaster could almost _feel_ the ghost containing his laughter. The skeleton scowled. He was getting _really sick_ of people underestimating him. He was weak compared to some monsters, yes, but he wasn’t _useless_ for _heaven’s sakes._

“Okay, fine, my little _optimist_ ,” Ker finally chuckled, his voice patronizing, “There’s three mages in this camp at any given time, _six_ if something _big_ is going on.”

Gaster felt like his soul had dropped out of his chest.

“Assuming you can even find out _which mage_ is casting the barrier, how are you going to get past _all six_ to kill them?”

“I’ll… figure that out,” Gaster replied doubtfully, “But… _you_ can figure out which mage I need at least.”

“Nope.”

“Ker, you’re a _spy!”_ Gaster said with an incredulous laugh, “You’re the only one who _could_ figure this out!”

“No can do, bonehead!” the cup rattled with whatever emotion Ker was feeling, “I’m pretty sure one of those humans is a necromancer, and I am _not_ trying my luck on how far this ‘conditional immortality’ thing goes.”

“Necromancy is a myth,” Gaster smirked.

“Oh yeah? Well what made _you_ then?”

“I was _born_ ,” Gaster rolled his eyes, “I had _parents_. Just… hear me out for a second okay? They want me to show off my magic tomorrow, and from what it sounds like, they’re gathering a bunch of humans together to do it. The mage who made this barrier is probably in camp anyway, so they’ll be there.”

“How do _you_ know _that?_ ”

“Humans don’t separate from their magic well,” Gaster explained, “The person casting this barrier will need to be close to it. Now, if-”

“ _How do you know that?”_

“I’m not _done_ ,” Gaster interrupted, trying to pull the conversation back where he wanted it, “If I can get the human casting the barrier, I can make them drop it long enough for you to fly out of here. Get help.”

“They’re going to kill you, you know,” Ker said, his voice both blunt and ecstatic, like this whole thing was exciting to him somehow, “The minute you touch one of their precious mages, you’re dead.”

Gaster frowned. R… right. He’d… forgotten about that. There’s no way they’d keep him alive if they thought he was too dangerous, was there? And this was probably the loudest way to prove something like that. But there was still a chance if they _really wanted_ his magic enough that… maybe they would keep him alive anyway? Right?

_It was either jump or be captured, and I’d rather be dead than caught so…_

Gaster sighed out a breath. This was as close to jumping as he was ever going to get.

“It’s worth a shot,” Gaster said finally, feeling a bit of resolution steady itself in his soul, “So can you do that? Can you find out what mage I need?”

“I sure can kid! You just made this a _whole lot more interesting_ , didn’t you?” Ker laughed, his cup starting to shake, “Alright, I’ll find you your mage. But you better get me out of this hellhole, bonehead!”

They burst out of their cup, a flicker of white and a flash of magic. Ker flew in a sharp circle, as if he was trying to figure out how to move again after sitting still for so long. He glided out through the nearest wall, and then with a flicker was back again.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot!” he laughed, the overly-wide grin curling on his face almost as unsettling as the grin that was always echoing in his voice, “So _commander_ , who am I sending this report to? _King Asgore himself?_ ”

Gaster scowled at the sarcasm. _Really?_

“Commander Amathea,” Gaster scowled, and then added to sound a _little_ more impressive, “And a friend of mine. Grillby the Mage-Slayer.”

“ _Ha!_ Grillby the _what?”_ Ker grinned, “Sure thing kid. This your imaginary friend?”

Exasperated, Gaster snatched up the cup Ker had been hiding in and tossed it at him, “He’s _real_ , and he’ll burn this whole place down, just wait for it! Thetis will know who they are. Just tell her.”

Ker giggled again, “Sure thing. See you later, killer!”

With a final shriek of a laugh, Kerr disappeared back through the wall again.

Gaster sighed, both grateful and strangely empty now that he was alone. He was… really doing this… wasn’t he? Well, he supposed he could always just… _do nothing_ tomorrow when the mages showed up. It would be… it would be easy… he figured. Easy to just do as they told him and pray they liked it enough not to kill him. He’d probably never see the repercussions of his own actions. He’d live out the rest of his life - however long or short that turned out to be - sitting in a cage waiting for the humans to get bored of him.

Half of him wondered what his friends would do if they were in the same situation - and the other half of him knew they’d never _be_ in this situation. Amathea would fight tooth and nail until she was dust. No human could capture her; no human would have the guts to try. And of course, Gaster already knew Grillby’s answer to the thought of something like this.

Gaster didn’t know their thoughts nearly enough to know what they’d want him to do. Stay safe, probably. Wait quietly until he could be rescued.

 _Gah!_ He wished he was _stronger!_ He wished he was _like them._ Unrelenting. Unyielding and invincible. All he could ever be was scared and small in comparison. He wasn’t a strong monster, not because he wasn’t made for it, but because he’d never _wanted to be_. Not until suddenly his entire world had shifted, and protecting people became a thing of violence and bloodshed. And here he was, some wretched doctor who couldn’t even use green magic, stuck in a world he’d never prepared himself for.

Gaster sighed and rubbed the side of his face tiredly, centering himself for a moment on the foreign texture of his new scar under his eye. He ran his finger bones delicately across it, tracing the cracked as it arced down across his face. It didn’t hurt anymore after Thistle’s magic had done its work, but it still felt strange and new, and a bit unsettling. He wondered when he’d ever see himself in the mirror to actually look at the change.

He wondered a bit more hesitantly if after tomorrow, he’d even be alive to worry about what he looked like.

Gaster shook his head. No more worrying about this. He’d made his decision. He was going to take the barrier down, if only for a moment. He was going to set Ker free so the ghost could get them help. He was going to stay alive until that help came. And if for some reason he _wasn’t_ , at least he would have saved any other monsters that would be brought here.

He was doing this. There was no use pining away over it now. There was no use in being nervous, or scared. He just needed to be ready.

Slowly, Gaster pulled himself into the kind of sitting position he normally used when he was meditating. He let the lights of his eyes go out, let his vision go black. He rested his hands on his knees and centered himself on the feeling of the touch. On the feeling of the ground beneath him and the wall at his back. In the back of his mind, he called back every time he’d ever seen Grillby cast in his multicolor. How beautiful it looked, how strangely peaceful the elemental always seemed - strange only because the first time Gaster had seen it, Grillby had been teaching him how to use a sword. It was funny to him, knowing it could wrap up the elemental at the most abnormal times.

He wanted his own soul to feel like that; cast in quiet multicolor.

Gaster didn’t move for the rest of the night - day - evening? He couldn’t rightly tell. The barrier kept that kind of knowledge from him, and all the exhausted sleeping he’d gotten on the way to this place had destroyed his sense of time. He fought with his anxiety and dread, and the picturesque _calm_ he was looking for. Sometimes he found it, but it never lasted long. Once he drifted off to sleep, only to jolt himself awake again a short time later.

Eventually Ker returned, slinking back into the cup he’d been haunting, “Alright killer, I’ve found your mage. Now get me outta here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a funny thing that happened this morning: I apparently slept through my alarm and was atrociously late to work (like, 45 minutes late to work jeezums). Which isn't the funny part.  
> The funny part is I remember hearing my alarm go off and thinking in a dilerious half-asleep state something along the lines of, "This music is HORRIBLE. Grillby would Hate this song," and then slapping something, which I can only assume was my phone because I found it on the floor later. I don't know what it was about my alarm clock that made me thing Grillby would hate it so much. I guess he just wouldn't like techno music, maybe?
> 
> Hmmm time to change my alarm.
> 
> Ahaha no seriously, I can only keep an alarm for so long before I start dream-hallucinating things about it when it goes off instead of actually waking up. Normally I catch myself in time by setting like... two alarms with different songs, so if I dream through one, the other one will wake me up? This time I guess it didn't work ahaha.
> 
> And something completely unrelated to my morning shenanigans: I don't like this chapter :'D I don't like how it ended up being executed at all. But I also have no idea how I'd change it. Unfortunate.


	59. The Glass is Breaking for a White that Isn't Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the barrier falls  
> Some questions are asked
> 
> And everything fades to white

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I know we have a fanart feature this week but I'm posting from work, and in a hurry since I have a lot more writing I want to get done today. So! I will update this chapter when I have a few minutes to look for my links!
> 
> My humblest apologies!

Gaster gave a startled jolt of surprise for what had to have been the thousandth time that day - morning - whatever it was. The doors to the stockade were being opened again, and Gaster watched pensively as a few humans walked in, pointed to a pair of monsters, and then dragged them out. Gaster sighed, relieved even in spite of the other monsters’ misfortune.

No one had come for him yet.

The humans had been busy all morning. Apparently another cartload of monsters had been brought in - leaving the stockade cramped uncomfortable. The humans had been coming in periodically ever since, constantly taking monsters out and only sometimes bringing any back. Their numbers were slowly dwindling. The other monsters had probably guessed by now that they were all being killed off, though Gaster was sure only the ones that returned knew what for. Often times those that came back didn’t speak. They found some place to curl up and they stayed there, quiet and miserable, not knowing what was going to happen to them next.

Gaster knew the feeling. He knew that and _more_ , and he didn’t know what was _worse_ ; the anticipatory fear that kept washing over him in waves only to disappear again, or the strange hope he’d developed that the humans had forgotten he existed and would never come and take him. Maybe with so many monsters limping around they’d just… skip over him entirely?

“You remember which mage you’re going after, killer?” Ker piped up suddenly, and Gaster let out a soft sigh.

“Yes,” he answered simply. How could he _not_ remember? Ker had only repeated it to him eight times today. Gaster might be fooled into thinking the ghost was _nervous_. Or maybe he just _really_ wanted to get out of here. Probably the latter.

“You sure you’re ready for this?”

“Not in the slightest,” Gaster said with a regretful laugh, feeling a fresh wave of nervousness start building in his chest, “But I have to do this.”

“No you don’t,” Ker pointed out, and Gaster wanted to hit him for it, “You could just be a nice little monster and do what they ask. That’s always an option.”

“Yeah, and be trapped here for the rest of my life?” Gaster snapped, “How many monsters have you see come and go through this place, Ker? This needs to stop.”

This elicited a thoughtful silence from the ghost for a few seconds, and then he piped up again, his voice a shrug, “Okay sure, but there are a thousand things that could go wrong with this you know.”

Gaster hissed out a tense sigh.

“I mean, first off, if you can’t break the barrier then you’re just killing yourself over nothing. But _obvious_ problems aside, there’s no guarantee you’ll get a rescue party. I mean, we’re _miles_ into human-conquered territory kid, and its _winter_. Even if they send someone here for you, they won’t get here until spring, and they’ll need an _army_ to take a fort like this. You think they can sneak _that_ past enemy lines to get you back? Assuming you’re even alive by then.”

“I don’t need _an army_ ,” Gaster said stubbornly, fighting against the growing sense of anxious hopelessness Ker was inciting, “All I need are Ammy and Grillby. They’ll come for me.”

“ _Tch_ , your optimism is _painful_ bonehead,” Ker said with a voice that sounded _way_ too pleasant to actually be painful, “You’re going to get your friends killed, you know that right?”

That… was the first thing Ker said that brought all of Gaster’s thoughts to a stop. But he wasn’t given enough time to come up with a suitable response. The doors opened again, and the _one time_ Gaster was prepared to ignore the humans who let themselves in, they were pointing in his direction.

“Knock ‘em dead, killer!” Ker chuckled.

“You now, I’m getting really mixed signals from you right now,” Gaster growled in his direction, with more bite than he even thought he could muster.

Ker just grinned - or, Gaster _assumed_ he was grinning.

“You hero types get _really stupid_. I’m just reminding you that your cause is hopeless. Now go kill a mage!”

Gaster was sure there was a very well-timed “you’re insane” comment he cold throughout right now, but he kept his mouth shut instead. It wasn’t worth his time anyway, and Ker would probably just think it was funny.

Gaster was led out of the pen again, managing to shoot one last glare back at Ker as he left. And now he didn’t know what to do. He… but he _did_ know at the same time. He wanted to get help! If not for himself then for the other monsters here! But he didn’t want to get anyone killed in the process, _especially_ his friends. The only reason he wanted freed was because he wanted to _see them again_. Oh _gods_. What was he going to _do?_

Gaster sighed dismally as he walked, trying to stamp down the fear writhing about in his soul. No this… he needed to do this. There was a lot of risk but… it was worth it, right? He hoped so anyway.

They arrived at the sparring circle all too soon. Gaster felt like he might throw up as he stepped into it, and his soul was a tangled knot of anxiety and creeping terror. If nothing else, Ker had been right about the mages. There were five of them standing on one side of the circle, along with a few other humans that the skeleton could only assume were some sort of authority. Maybe troop leaders of some sort. And _all_ of them were watching him.

 _Okay... Blonde hair,_ Gaster thought shakily, scanning through the small crowd of people, _Ker said they had blonde hair and… the shortest of the bunch and…_

And there they were. A little mage, standing a step behind Thistle in the crowd of watching people. A child. _A child_ , was casting the barrier. Gaster didn’t know whether he should be mortified and impressed. That was a _lot_ of magic, and surely it was _draining_. The barrier hadn’t wavered once since he’d arrived. If it really was fused to the kid’s soul… their soul must be nearly boundless with how strong it was. Though, even from this distance away, Gaster thought the child looked a lot paler than they probably should. It might have been the cold or the lack of actual sunlight, but they looked sick. Sick and fragile, like something that was barely holding on to the world around them. Like a monster about to fall down.

And… they were Gaster’s target now. Oh gods. _Oh gods_ he didn’t know if he could do this. With five mages staring back at him, and other soldiers gathering just to watch. He was going to have to be fast. Fast and surprising.

“Alright,” Thistle called to him from across the circle, “Anytime now monster!”

When she called across to Gaster, every idle stare turned sharply towards him. Every passing conversation focused. Gaster was the center of attention, some kind of ragged freak show. He’d never been so scared of being watched. He wished he was alone. He wished he was somewhere else. He wished this _wasn’t happening_.

“Sometime _before_ the war is over, preferably,” came Thistle’s sarcastic prompting.

Gaster sighed out a breath, one that constricted in his neck into an uncomfortable wheeze, trying not to panic. Trying to stay focused enough to actually use his magic. It was now or never. He was either doing this now or he wasn’t. He was doing this now. He…

He reached out a hand slowly, trying not to be ashamed of how much it shook. And when he reached, he pulled his magic with it. Slowly, _painstakingly_ , gathering as much attention as the seconds allowed him. But he didn’t pull forward too much of his magic. He needed to conserve. If he was going to do this, he couldn’t exhaust himself on the first shot. This was… a bit like a battlefield wasn’t it?

Except nobody else knew they were fighting yet.

Gaster didn’t have to see the blaster he’d conjured to know it was there. All he needed to see were the expressions on the faces in front of him. Curiosity, wonderment with a soft halo of fear roping it all together. Then there was the loud whine as the magic inside it coalesced, and he held it for a few seconds longer than he needed to before he let the blast fire forward and fizzle out. It carved a neat, burning line into the ground at the edge of the circle, right at the mages’ feet. The child was the only one that flinched.

Then he summoned again, pulling forward four of the beastly heads at once. These he didn’t hold for nearly as long - _couldn’t,_ for fear of sapping away too much magic. He fired these forward as well, eye sockets narrowing slightly at the blinding light. Before they could die off he was snapping forward a shower of blue magic, grabbing a single soul tightly in his grip and pulling as hard as he could.

 _Gods_ he hoped Ker had told him the right mage.

Everything that happened next were the longest seconds of Gaster’s life. There was the scream as the kid was suddenly yanked off his feet, kicking and struggling fruitlessly. They dropped their staff in the rush, and Gaster was almost too distracted to be grateful for it. Things would be so much easier if the child wasn’t hurling spells at him. The child slid to a halt at Gaster’s feet, looking almost too surprised to be scared.

Gaster summoned forth another row of blasters and fired them towards the mages standing at the edge of the circle. They hadn’t moved yet, either too shocked or still blinded by the light of so many attacks firing, or maybe a little of both. But they were surely moving now. Spells were cast, shields were raised, several of the non-mages scattered. Gaster didn’t give them a chance to catch their breath. He poured everything in his soul out to them, blasters, bone attacks, sometimes grips of blue when he could manage it. Anything he could do to stall for time. In the same movement that brought forward another row of attacks, Gaster speared a pair of glittering bone attacks through the kid’s hands to hold them still, earning himself another long and terrified scream. It grated against the inside of his skull, loud and jolting enough to almost make him drop his magic.

“Shh, _shh_ , it’s alright,” Gaster whispered down at them, and their tear-streaked eyes widened when they realized he was speaking their language, “This will be over in a second.”

Gaster pulled forth the little human’s soul, letting it unravel in his hands. He wasn’t tearing anything apart... yet. He didn’t want to kill them if he didn’t have to. It was probably a dumb decision, given the situation he was in but… he had nightmares from doing that once when he was desperate. He never wanted to do that again.

Everyone was screaming, and Gaster was surprised it wasn’t more distracting than it actually was. Then again he _was_ a doctor, and he was in no small way a soldier, he supposed. Was it sad that he was used to hearing sounds like this? It was the movement that distracted him, and the fear of what came with it. The mages were staggering into action, doing their best to dodge the attacks Gaster was throwing and somehow conjure their own in return. But they were reluctant to throw anything _powerful_ for fear of hitting the kid Gaster had grabbed.

The only one who seemed cold enough to try anything was the mage Thistle had argued so bitterly with the day before, and they were arguing again now, even in spite of what was happening. Gaster didn’t have to fully listen to their conversation to get the gist of it. They were torn between saving the child, or killing them before Gaster could take their soul. And the child could hear them talking, and through the strands of soul-stuff in Gaster’s hands he could _feel_ their fear and despair so harshly it put an ache like frostbite in his finger bones.

“They don’t mean that,” Gaster whispered to the kid beneath him as he worked, and he heard their crying quiet some beneath him, “They’re just scared. You’ll be fine.”

The feeling didn’t ease in the slightest, and Gaster winced as he kept pulling strands around. _Gods_ that hurt. Could the child feel that?

“Please don’t kill me,” the child stammered at him, their voice a broken mess of sobs and stutters, “ _Please_.”

Gaster’s fingers traced their way down the strand he’d been looking for, one pulsing and flashing with a magical spell. Honestly he was surprised he even _found_ it. Human souls were gigantic, larger than Grillby’s even. Everything was a mess of cords and half-made magic and emotions and memories. Finding the _one strand_ that represented a spell was like finding a miracle.

“I promise I won’t,” Gaster whispered to them, and felt a small sense of relief when their crying nearly stopped altogether, “But you need to hold very still, so I don’t hurt you.”

Gaster snapped the cord in two. The kid winced beneath him, bravely doing their best to keep still. The doctor in Gaster wanted to shower them with praise. They were doing better than some of the patients he’d seen in the past under much less dramatic circumstances.

A crack so loud and ominous it shook the earth beneath them and rent the very air they were breathing. The child gasped up at the sky, and Gaster allowed himself a glance as well. The barrier was breaking apart like glass, shattering in jagged cracks and falling in a shower of spent magic. Gaster heaved a sigh of relief when he saw a flash of blue arc its way out of one of the gaps. Ker was out.

Gaster released the attacks holding the child pinned, but he didn’t release their soul. More as an afterthought than anything else, he started reweaving things together, adding bits of his own magic where he could manage it.

“W… what are you doing…?”

“Hold still,” Gaster shushed them, and by some miracle they did as he asked. He was finished in less than a heartbeat, putting the child’s soul back into place. Then he stepped away from them, and with a hiss of fearful breath let all of his attacks stop. Exhaustion crashed down on him the second he did. He felt utterly _spent_ , his skull filled with the ominous buzzing of a coming faint. But he’d done it. _He’d done it_.

And the kid was still very much alive, watching him doubtfully, like they had no idea what to do with him now. They had their hands clasped together - perfect and unharmed, not even a scar to show Gaster’s work had been done.

Thistle was the first one to reach them, screaming a spell in Gaster’s direction. He had no idea what it was. He didn’t even bother trying to dodge it. They’d just think he was still fighting, which wasn’t what he wanted now. Whatever she’d thrown at him knocked him stumbling, made the buzzing in his skull worse, until it wrapped around his very soul. His vision flickered blurry, then spotted with lights. His vision was consumed with white before he could feel the ground rise to meet him.

He thought he heard the child screaming.

<hr />

Gaster awoke hours later, feeling very much like someone had thrown him under a moving wagon. Everything hurt and he felt completely _spent_ , like his magic had been ripped out of his very soul. With a shaky groan he pulled himself into a sitting position, blearily checking himself over. Nothing was broken. He wasn’t in pain. He didn’t really have any hp out of place. For a few soul-stopping seconds, he almost convinced himself that he’d dreamt the entire thing.

But he wasn’t back in the stockade. He was… somewhere else, the inside of a tent? A _large one_ at that, big enough to have a bed of hay stuffed on one side of it, and a table for something. And books. There were a _lot_ of books. More books than Gaster had ever seen in his life, actually, which was _saying something_ , since he’d seen a private library before. Granted, it had been a _small one_ but… still. There were scrolls and codices… and now on the desk Gaster could make out a pen and ink.

As curious as he was about all of it, he couldn’t reach any of the things he saw. He was trapped where he was, separated from the rest of the world by a thin wall of magic. Really it was more like a bubble, just big enough for him to pace a short circle around in. If he leaned his back against one side and stretched his legs out, he’d reach the other. As it was now he sat in the middle, legs crossed and his hands in his lap, hesitant to touch any side of the little cage he’d been thrown in. He had no idea if it would hurt him or not, and he wasn’t keen on finding out.

A jagged line of light suddenly broke the dimness of the room he was in, and someone stepped inside. Thistle, staff in hand and sour scowl on her face.

“Good evening,” Gaster called to her, snapping up her attention, “Or is it morning? I honestly can’t tell.”

She scowled at him. Well… that was promising.

“Is the child okay?” Gaster asked quietly. He’d _thought_ he’d fixed everything before he let them go. He rejoined the strand he’d cut, fixed up the mess he’d done to their hands… there was always emotional trauma he supposed but that was kind of out of his control-

“He is _fine_ , no thanks to _you_ ,” came the severe answer. Gaster _could_ argue differently, but that probably wouldn’t help him right now. Nobody liked a smartass, _especially_ an imprisoned one.

“You should keep a close eye on them anyway,” Gaster said gently, trying to sound as harmless as he possibly could, “I think something’s wrong in their soul.”

Thistle scoffed, “Oh I wouldn’t have _guessed_.”

“Not from _me_ ,” Gaster said, trying not to sound exasperated, “I mean… some of it _might_ have been but I _fixed_ everything I messed with.”

“How do you know?” she snapped back, her voice low and dangerous. Gaster would’ve backed away from her if he could but… he was stuck. He had nowhere to go. So hesitantly he stood his ground.

“I just know.”

“How do you know _anything_ about _human souls_ , monster?” she demanded, the staff in her hand flashing brightly to life.

This time, Gaster _did_ jolt back, slamming into the wall of magic behind him.

“I’m a _doctor_ ,” he said pleadingly, managing a nervous laugh, “I know _monster_ souls. Human souls just aren’t that much different.”

“You’re _lying_ to me, monster,” she growled in return, the light on her staff flashing brighter, “Maybe I should _remind you_ of the mess you’re in.”

Gaster laughed again, nerves tensing up his ribcage and strangling the noise into something wincing, “That’s _really_ not necessary.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re sitting in?”

Gaster glanced up at the ceiling of his little bubble, suddenly _convinced_ the roof of it was about to cave in on him.

“That’s a barrier. A _very small_ one,” Thistle said simply, her tone still dark and bitter, “And _anything_ can go _in_ it, and _nothing_ comes out. Monsters. Objects. _Magic_ …”

For a few seconds Gaster stopped breathing. _Shit_.

“There are a thousand ways I can _make you_ tell me what I want,” Thistle growled, the light on her staff giving a menacing red shimmer, “You’ve got _one_ more chance to tell me before this becomes hell for you.”

She hissed out a breath, like she was bracing herself, and then stepped closer to the barrier. She loomed over him, staff flashing brighter.

“Now, _monster,_ we’ll start with an easy question,” Thistle said, her voice alarmingly calm, every word drawn out slow and clear, “Why didn’t you steal Rowan’s soul?”

Rowan. That was a handsome name; really dark and earthy sounding. That kid didn’t _look_ like a Rowan though. Gaster probably would’ve guessed something like Garroway or Alistair… or maybe Paige. Paige was a good name actually.

Though he guessed he shouldn’t judge, as far as names went. He went by his last name for a _reason_.

The staff gave another ominous flash. Right. Thistle was probably expecting an answer from him.

“I didn’t _want_ their soul,” Gaster said finally, trying to sound like he meant it, because he _did_. Stealing the kid’s soul hadn’t crossed his mind for an instant.

“Why not?”

Gaster piped a laugh that was a little more genuine, “Why _would_ I? I’m not a boss monster. That kind of power is completely lost on me.”

And that was completely true - Gaster wouldn’t know what to do with that kind of power if he had it. He probably couldn’t even _control_ it. Just touching human souls made him feel like he was dropping through the deepest part of an ocean. Having something like that be a part of him forever… he’d be completely consumed by it. He’d probably turn into one of those grotesque boss monsters from the old days, just devouring everything he saw with no way to stop himself.

Thistle narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious but somehow appeased by his answer, “How did you know Rowan had the barrier?”

Well, he’d _hoped_ he could tell the truth through this whole endeavor. Now he needed to lie, and lie _well_. Good thing he was an excellent liar, or he’d be done for!

“It was an _extremely lucky guess_ ,” Gaster said anxiously, and immediately regretted leading off with that. The flashing on Thistle’s staff steadied out into a bright red glow, crackling magic charging.

“It _was_ a guess!” Gaster insisted, cringing back against the wall behind him. He started for ideas as quickly as he could stammer them out, “I just… the… the - uhm - the barrier is probably a huge spell and it hasn’t dropped since I got here so it takes a lot of magic to sustain that kind of thing and that kid looks _terribly_ ill, which makes no sense when you _clearly_ have enough healing magic to manage something like that so I _guessed_.”

The glare died down a bit and Gaster added, “I was going for the uhm… I…”

Gaster trailed off for a second. She didn’t know he spoke her language. He couldn’t call Bracken by name.

“The mage that I saw on the first day… when you uh… saved me,” Gaster stammered, “He was my first guess. He _also_ looks sick.”

The magic dropped out of the air completely, and Gaster almost slumped over with relief. He sighed and stretched out a hand pleadingly towards Thistle, hoping for a few seconds she’d _listen_.

“That’s _also why_ you need to keep a close eye on… R… Rowen,” Gaster said gently, “They’re not well. This barrier is probably going to be the death of them.”

“You worry about yourself,” Thistle hissed, “Alright, _doctor_. Why do you know so much about humans?”

Gaster blinked at her.

“You know when we look _sick_ ,” she glowered, “You know how our _magic works_. You know how to _heal_ us.”

This one was a little bit easier to lie about.

“I told you, humans and monsters aren’t so different,” Gaster said quietly, “Your souls are bigger, and your bodies don’t turn to dust without them. But aside from that, we’re mostly the same. I mean… _you’re_ the human who uses monster magic. Did you stop to think _maybe_ , monsters figured out we’re the same too?”

Thistle was still scowling, but at least she didn’t look like she was about to snap him in half. That was… good.

“I mean think about it,” Gaster persisted, “We have monsters that _bleed_. We have monsters with human squishy insides. We even have monsters that work with _spells_. We’re _so similar_. It’s like trying to find the difference between… I don’t - like the difference between a dog and a wolf. One of us is just… stronger.”

Gaster shrunk back away from her a little more and added warily, “ _Hopelessly_ stronger, if the war is any indication.”

Thistle was still glowering, her expression unreadable past the obvious _angry_. He couldn't tell if she was actually buying a word he was saying, or if she was just biding her time until she decided what to do with him. Or maybe that pulsing red light on her staff was supposed to be detecting some sort of untruth and she already knew what he was saying was wrong.

“Why did you drop the barrier?”

Gaster blinked.

“No monsters came in. No monsters escaped. _Nothing changed_ ,” Thistle scowled, “We checked _everywhere_. Everything was accounted for.”

“Well…” Gaster said with a sheepish grin, “You asked me to do something impressive, right?”

There was a pause.

“That _had_ to be impressive, if I’m still alive.”

“ _That_ is still up for debate,” Thistle said, finally breaking away from _angry_ and looking a bit smugger, “I think we should just kill you and get it over with. You’ve already proven you’re more trouble than you’re worth, crazy magic or not.”

Well, that lasted long.

“But Bracken is _convinced_ you know a lot about human souls. And I agree. You’re hiding something.”

He really needed to work on his lying skills.

“And whatever _you_ know, the monster army knows.”

 _Did_ they know? Ammy knew, but she never really understood a word he was talking about. And he’d never really told Grillby everything had he? Not that it was really all that terrible. Just a bunch of useless information. The only thing that made him a doctor rightly.

And he was starting to wonder if he was even that anymore. He’d been doing a lot more hurting people than healing people lately.

Thistle’s staff flickered back to life again, magic summoning with it.

“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?” Gaster asked the air in front of him.

To her credit, Thistle had stopped looking angry by now and just kind of looked mildly inconvenienced. Like Gaster was a stubborn stain on the floor that needed washing out. He wasn’t sure if that made her scarier or not.

“Okay but just for the record,” Gaster joked as best he could manage, “I scream like a baby over the smallest things. I’m a spineless coward. _Extremely_ unheroic. Just keep that in mind.”

She rolled her eyes. But Gaster _thought_ he saw her smirk. Maybe if he was funny enough they’d take it easy on him? That was a thing right?

That was probably just his optimism talking.

Thistle barked a word and everything in Gaster’s world went white for the second time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly advisory before next week's chapter that themes of torture are going to be showing up soon, so guard yourselves mentally if you need to do that thing!
> 
> Aaaand I'm gonna go sort some files and write some things! Wish me luck!  
> If I get a suitable buffer we might be able to keep up double updates for a little longer :3


	60. I Wish for Once That Grey Existed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which both nothing and everything is happening at once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry. I JUST realized I forgot to update the links last week. But! I'm putting them all here now! Oh jeezums I'm sorry. Really I am. 
> 
> The first is something that's "inspired by CR" which might mean you don't want it affiliated with CR so please yell at me if that's true and I'll take the link down! But it is [by missccp on tumblr and it's based off ch 56! And the art style used is so gestural and sketchy. I like it :3](https://missccp.tumblr.com/post/155276611717/happy-new-year-everyone-heres-a-fan-art-of)
> 
> Next batter up is [ is ursubs from tumblr back again](http://ursubs.tumblr.com/post/155459257753/some-long-overdue-casting-rain-fanart-things) with their awesome way of drawing. Like seriously their linework is awesome.
> 
> And last but certainly not least is procrastinatingbookworm on tumblr back again with a few things.  
> Those being [ a couple really cool drawings](http://procrastinatingbookworm.tumblr.com/post/155412911027/watercolor-crgrillby-theblogofcastingrain) [ of our dear elemental Grillby](http://procrastinatingbookworm.tumblr.com/post/155404023497/more-wargrillby-hand-art-for). One of which really reminds me of that .8 seconds at the beginning of CR when I thought about giving Grillby two swords lol. 
> 
> And I think that's everyone! Though we've proven time and again that I'm forgetful trash, so please by all means if you think I forgot you or missed you, throw a brick at my face or something.

Gaster didn’t know he could ever hate the color white, but he did. He was tired of seeing the color white, and the color black. That was all his life was now. As far as he knew, that was all it would ever be. Just an unending cycle. White. And then black.

He didn’t know which one was worse. He didn’t know which one he _hated_ more.

White.

Black.

White was painful, but not for nearly the reasons Gaster thought it would be. White was paralyzing. White was _helpless_. White was an obnoxious buzzing in his senses and the ability to _feel_ the passage of time without really being able to do anything about it. White was being held underwater with his face a fraction of a measurement from the surface, and still never being able to _reach it_. And then white was waking up and feeling sore. Painful, down to the soul, like someone had hollowed out every bone in his body, _sore_. When white left him he felt too weak and too tired to move. Almost too much to breathe. All he wanted to do was curl up on the ground and sleep.

And then everything was black. Black and weightless and something that should’ve been relief but _wasn’t_ , because it was always so full. It was always delirious and unsettling even though it was equally _empty_ and _nothing_.

It was haunting.

His mind was constantly teeming to life somewhere just underneath it; nightmares, ragged half-thoughts, impressions and emotions. They were always _there_ when he was sleeping. Uncomfortably close. Almost at the surface, like somehow the roles were switched and suddenly Gaster was the thing holding his mess underwater, _just_ under the surface, _just_ about to burst free. They scratched at bit at him, only ever making it close enough to scrape a harmless tooth against the edge of his bones. They never had enough energy to manifest. Gaster always fell asleep too achy and exhausted for him to see any more in his sleep than never-ending _black_.

But the feelings were there, threatening, buzzing at the back of his skull and growling at him for a few seconds before he woke. Menacing. Like if he slept for just a few more seconds they’d finally have the strength they needed to burst forward into some visceral nightmare.

He always woke on his own. He always awoke feeling like he hadn’t eaten in weeks or slept in days. And he would always lay on the ground, waiting for the small eternity it took for Thistle to materialize in front of his prison. That short period of wakefulness was dread. That short time was wordlessly worrying about what was going to happen next. Every human that passed by the tent _might_ be Thistle, and he was awash in terror with every movement he glanced.

Then she would enter. He would squeeze his eye sockets shut and pray for a few seconds that it didn’t last long, and the cycle would start again.

 

White.

Black.

Wait.

Dread.

 

White.

Black.

Wait.

Dread.

 

White.

Black.

Wait--

 

Sometimes he wondered if he wasn’t just having some strange dream. Sometimes he wondered if this wasn’t just a weird cyclical nightmare and at some point he would wake up in his tent with the smell of breakfast cooking in the distance. At some point he would wake up, the weight that had settled on him would release and he would stand up and walk. He would laugh and talk and everything would be normal.

Sometimes the white convinced him he was dead.

He could never _think_ in the white. He could never actively or consciously entertain himself. It was _exactly_ like being held underwater. Emotions and thoughts reached him with the same muffled sound as someone screaming within the depths of something. He would come to realizations about what those muffled noises meant without even consciously thinking them.

Some days those realizations were simply, “I’m dead.”

Some days they were much less. Something closer to, “I’m not awake anymore.”

Some days he thought, “I no longer exist.”

And then the white would release him and he’d be on the ground, and sore, and exhausted, and he’d remember none of those things were true. Sometimes waking up from the white left him sobbing because he _was_ still here. He _was_ awake. He _did_ exist. And _this_ was his existence. Other days he couldn’t be bothered, remembering these things was barely worth the time to notice as he drifted off to sleep.

Some days, he’d remember why he was here, and he’d be… miserably happy he was still alive. Because some days, he remembered Ker was out there somewhere. Ker was out there and he was getting help. He remembered this wasn’t going to be his forever, even if it _felt_ like it.

Gaster wished those days came more frequently.

He also wished he knew what was going on. Honestly he did. If he _knew_ what they were doing to make him feel so miserable and helpless, it might be a little less maddening. Or maybe he could convince himself he deserved it. Gaster couldn’t help but wonder, in those few instances that he had the emotional strength to, that if he _just knew_ what they were _doing_ to him he could rectify it with himself somehow. It would somehow be easier to bear.

Were they just draining him of his magic? Let him stay awake for it! Let him feel every rip and tear it put in his soul as he lost _everything_ from the inside out. At least then he’d be _feeling something_. Was this some kind of torture? Was this the after effects of some electricity? Or fire? Or poison? Let him _watch it_. Let him _see_ whatever hell they were rubbing into his bones. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so dreadful. Maybe he’d be able to stand something like that better. Maybe for once having some sort of consuming pain in his body would be _better_ than the agony of being trapped in his unconscious mind.

But… maybe…

Maybe this was for the best. Maybe he just _didn’t want to know_. Maybe he _did_ know, and the white was just him _wanting_ to forget. Maybe he saw everything, and that was what crept up on him, snarling and sobbing in the black. Did he really _ever_ want to know what was making him so miserable?

He didn’t. He didn’t want to know. He never, ever, in a million years wanted to know. He was so scared of figuring it out that he refused to look at himself. He refused to look into his soul or across his body to see if something was breaking, because he _knew_ it had to be. Such desperate amounts of _nothing_ and _something_ had to be changing him somehow. Warping him into something else. Disfiguring his body and soul into something unrecognizable.

Maybe this was what it was like to be human. To _hate_. To want to scratch the persistent soreness off the surface of his bones like one would scratch an itch. To want to tear his own soul to pieces. Break his own ribs. To pull wider the cracks in his skull. Sometimes he actually did. He knew he did. He knew because sometimes he’d wake up and he wasn’t just sore, he was _burning_. Sometimes he’d wake up and there’d be chips in his finger bones and grooves dug in his arms and Thistle would make some comment under her breath and turn his world white again. He’d wake up and they’d be gone.

Sometimes he would have a moment of clarity. One just long and sane enough for him to convince himself that this _wasn’t everything_. That he could survive. That someone was coming for him.

Who was coming?

Who would bother?

_Why should they?_

He wanted to live so badly that he wanted to die. He feared and desperately hoped all at once that one day he’d fall into one of these colors and never come back out again. He’d pray for the mercy of waking up again one minute, and pray for the mercy of never doing so the next. He wished he was something else. And then he didn’t know if something else existed. This was all he was now. This was all he ever had been. This was all he would ever be. He wasn’t Gaster. He wasn’t even a monster. He wasn’t an animal or object or shuddering living _thing_.

All he was, was white, and then black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooooo okay! It has been literally months since the last time we had a chapter that was LESS THAN 2000 WORDS LONG. Holy shit. 
> 
> I almost feel like I"m jipping you guys by posting this. I almost DIDN'T post it, actually. But... at the end of the day it flows better like this, so for the sake of the plot and how it progresses, I'm posting it now. Sorry! The good news is, because of how long it took me to decide what I was doing, I actually finished the other half of the chapter so.... we can continue with double updates for this week! Probably not for next week but we'll see.
> 
> In other news, I started classes this week. My first class was on Monday and boy was THAT an adventure. I got lost for one thing. Like, 20 minutes late to class, was wandering around in the wrong building, the professor rolled their eyes at me as I walked in, lost. I missed the entire first half of class and felt really REALLY awkward trying to find a seat in the middle of his presentation.  
> Second class is a class I've taken twice now, and if I don't pass it this time I might as well switch majors because it's a required class. So there's that.
> 
> Then I had to go see parking services about a parking pass that for some reason their system isn't letting me purchase online, underestimated how far the building was from where I was at and long story short, ended up walking in 20 degree weather for probably half an hour to 45 minutes. Still didn't get a parking pass.
> 
> And today I woke up sick :) 
> 
> So. This week is going great!


	61. If You Talk Enough Sense Then You'll Lose Your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gaster is acting a bit irrational (though who can blame him?)  
> And something unexpected begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart feature for this week is smol, but for once in my life I think I've actually got everyone! :3
> 
> Loumun-Versen on Deviantart (whose username I have finally started spelling right without having to look it up - yes!) posted [several sketches/WIPs of full images for CR that never made it to being finished](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/UT-Sketching-the-Rain-656061342). Among them are a lot from like... 30 chapters ago when Gaster/Grillby were at the river.
> 
> Ahhh man... that was so long ago. We've come so far since then, and the tone of the story has gotten _so much darker_ since then as well.

One day the routine broke. Gaster didn’t know when. He didn’t know _why_. He didn’t know how long it took him to realize it happened - time wasn’t worth keeping. But one morning he woke up on his own and Thistle wasn’t walking towards him. No other mage came for him. What was going on? Why was no one here? He was awake for the first time in what felt like eons. Gaster didn’t know what to do with himself. Gaster was left to his own devices, and it was _terrifying_. The jarring _newness_ of it unnerved him.

For a while he stayed where he was, expecting Thistle to just be late. Maybe… maybe something had happened? Maybe they’d forgotten him? Maybe they had more important things to deal with right now? Maybe… maybe he could finally have some peace… he could rest, _heal_. Maybe…

 _Maybe they were planning something_. Maybe things were about to get worse. Oh _gods_ no. _How could it get worse than this?_ Gaster was struck by the most consuming fear he’d felt in ages, the wholeness of it sending him back away from the edge of his little prison. He lurched and crawled for the nearest corner, curled up as small as his body would let him, hyperventilating, shaking. _No no no don’t make it worse._ Gaster bit down on one of his knuckles, trying to stifle the panic even a little. All he managed to do was make his jaw sore and put a crack in the delicate bone.

He waited. He waited for ages, his panic writhing around inside him, subsiding just long enough to come crashing back when a new thought crawled to life in the back of his skull. Every sound or shuffle outside sent a new hitch in his breath, a tremor in his spine. Every time the wind flustered the canvas of the tent Gaster flinched and cried. Every time someone passed by the entrance, his body and soul froze. _What was taking so long? Why was no one here? What were they going to do to him now?_

They were going to kill him, Gaster thought with absolute certainty. Everything they’d wanted from him they’d already taken. When they came back… when they came back…! Oh _gods_ _please_ spare him now. Whatever it was make it quick or make it nothing at all. Please. _Please_. He couldn’t _handle this anymore_. He might _die_ waiting. Just get it over with. _Let it end_.

It took him a long, _long_ time to calm down. It took a long time for the suffocating paranoia to reduce itself to a more mild, obstructing tenseness in his nonexistent throat. It took a long time for his grasping, clawing limbs to go limp, for the stinging of the scores they put in his bones to refocus his attention. He wasn’t calm. _He could not be calm_. But… but he wasn’t blinded by outright panic. _For now._

When the episode finally subsided, he was left feeling exhausted - somehow even more so than he normally felt. But he didn’t want to _sleep_. He was _far too terrified_ to sleep. He was too afraid that the minute he let that blackness take him he’d never come back out again. Or worse - the cycle would restart. This panic. This dread. This _awakeness_. It was a break from the cycle, it was _rest_ , in one of the most perverted and horrific ways rest could ever manifest itself. He needed to stay awake even if he’d forgotten how to. Even if it scared him senseless. He needed to prove to himself he was still alive -  no matter how pathetic and short-lived an effort that might be.

Gaster groaned and pushed himself shakily into a more comfortable sitting position, trying to bite back the paranoia that was creeping through him. This was the first time he’d done anything but lay on the ground and cower in… he didn’t know how long and he didn’t really care. His body shook. Every part of him ached and groaned. But he sighed contentedly when he was up, slumped against one of the walls of his little prison, his legs stretched out to brush the far side.

Now what?

Next he took inventory, whispering to himself the name of every bone he saw and making sure they all still existed. Just doing that took a while. It was hard to remember some of the names, and exhaustion sometimes left him scrambling for words he should have memorized eons ago. His hands were the hardest. There were so many intricately tiny bones in his hands. He listed the ones he could remember and stared at the rest. They looked _right_ , he thought. They looked _normal_. And they also looked... oddly fascinating. For awhile he just stared at his hands and watched them move. Watched every part of them pull and contract. He stretched them and popped them and bent them any funny way he could that didn’t imply breaking something.

He had more than two hands.

That thought hit Gaster startlingly, as if somehow he’d forgotten it. He blinked and they were there, shivering slightly as if his magic didn’t want to form them. The ache in his body intensified like a migraine in bright sunlight. He flexed them anyway, and signed a few words, watching them float and curl just like his normal hands did before finally letting them drop out of existence.

He’d made those. He remembered that. That was the first magic he’d made for himself. That was the first time he’d ever pulled apart his soul and wove things around and put them back together again. He didn’t use them often anymore, but he was proud they existed. They’d helped him through surgeries, they’d carried books and papers and he’d written and read with them. They’d held rain-soaked canvas and carried Grillby’s stuff when they’d first met.

Gaster didn’t bother forming any more magic. He didn’t bother moving anymore. He fell back asleep, and he slept for awhile. He slept long enough to recognize he was dreaming when the dreaming started.

He was sitting beside a campfire and Grillby was with him. The elemental was cooking like always, and humming a little. It was summer, or maybe that was just the fire keeping him warm. But there was a storm overhead as well, thunder was rolling through so loud it made the ground shake. His sleeping mind told him this was a bad thing, even though his dream self didn’t move. His dream self was too happy being close to Grillby. His dream self was talking about something stupid and flippant that made no sense, like monsters growing wings or some other optimistic bullshit. And he kept talking even when the rain started.

“It hurts,” Grillby said to him, but Gaster just kept talking.

“Everything hurts.”

Gaster kept talking.

“ _You could’ve stopped this.”_

_“This didn’t have to happen.”_

Grillby was leaning over him - _when had Gaster fallen over?_ \- and he was _screaming_ in that agonized voice and his fire was going out and he was turning to dust and that dust was cascading onto Gaster and it was clogging up his eyes and his throat and he couldn’t breathe and he was gasping and kicking and struggling.

_“Why did you let this happen?”_

Gaster jolted awake when something smashed into him.

He had enough time to slam frantically back against the wall behind him and take a breath before Thistle’s sharp voice grabbed his attention. Somehow Gaster managed to swallow the scream that had been building in his chest, letting out a shrill whistle of noise through his clenched teeth instead.

“Would you _shut up?!”_

Gaster blinked. _Was_ that Thistle? It didn’t _look_ like her. Well… maybe if she were made of ash - which would be fantastic actually because then maybe a stiff wind would scatter her to pieces. As it was now she was looming over him, scowling and annoyed. Everything about her was a mess of ash and soot, her skin rosy with burns. Even her staff looked like it had been shoved through a fireplace. And she was missing a boot.

Was _that_ what she’d hit him with? Gaster frowned - that was just _rude_.

“Are you _quite finished?”_ she demanded, sounding stupidly like some angry mother chastising a child. Gaster didn’t know how to answer that. He actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken. After a prolonged staring contest where she glared and waited for an answer and Gaster just kind of… never… said anything… she threw her hands up in the air and stormed away, grumbling some indiscernible rand as she went.

Gaster just… watched her. Trying to figure out why she looked the way she did. Did she _normally_ look like that? Just… covered in ash and burn marks? No, no that couldn’t be right. She must have done something to look like that. Though he had absolutely no idea what she could’ve done to make it look like she’d held hands with a pair of pyropes.

Thistle noticed him watching and paused in digging through her books - _when had he figured out these books were all hers? -_ and growled through gritted teeth, “ _Stop staring_ before I _make you_.”

Gaster looked away immediately, a short, almost reflexive pang of fear jerking his whole body into turning away from her. He was _terrified_ of being shoved back into whatever white void her magic kept throwing him into, and it was that grinding fear that forced him to listen, even as his soul writhed angrily when he did. He had enough smothered pride left to try and disguise the motion as him just shifting around to sit in a different position. With nothing else to really look at, he curled up against one of the walls and looked out towards the tent’s exit.

“And don’t you fall asleep either,” Thistle grumbled, dusting the ash from her hair, “I don’t need you keeping me awake all night with your damn whining.”

Gaster’s soul gave another bitter twist and he scowled. He felt ashamed and embarrassed that she’d caught him crying… that she was treating him like some misbehaving animal because of a _nightmare_. And he was angry. _So_ angry. Angry because he was afraid, and he _shouldn’t be_.

_He didn’t deserve this._

Gaster snapped back at her before he could muster the common sense to stop himself, “Well isn’t your life just _tragic_.”

Was that… _sarcasm?_ Huh. He didn’t know he could still do that. The words tasted good on his teeth though. Spite made them taste equal parts accomplished and acidic, as if he’d bitten down on some raw herb.

“ _What_ did you say to me _monster?”_

Gaster flashed her a sideways glance. Oh she was feeling _hellish_ , and Gaster was feeling _every bit of it back_. There that curling fear rose in his chest again, crying at him to keep his mouth shut before Thistle thrust him back into his white-and-black cycle again. A more daring part of him said his life couldn’t get much worse anyway. That more daring part of him was incredibly satisfied with what he said next.

“My name,” Gaster breathed, scowling wickedly, “Is _Gaster_. If you want to _threaten me_ you can do it with _my name_. Or I might think you’re talking to _yourself_.”

It was petty and dumb, but Gaster relished in saying it. Humans hated being compared to monsters, even in the most simple ways, and Thistle was no exception.

Thistle blinked at him for a handful of seconds, long enough to look both surprised and enraged. Like she couldn’t believe he was talking, let alone talking _so defiantly_. Gaster couldn’t really blame her for that. He was surprising himself, like his mind had stepped back a bit from what he was doing and instead he was watching some _incredibly stupid_ doppelganger speak for him. But here he was. _Standing_. Glaring. Scowling and shaking. Probably looking every bit as pathetic and weak and _stupid_ as he felt.

But if nothing else, he also felt _satisfied_ , seething delight at the fact that he’d made her angry. She had no idea how _scared_ he was. If all he could muster as revenge was to be a thorn in her side, then _he would_ , and gods damn the consequences.

Thistle reached for her staff, and Gaster _laughed_ \- a bitter, curling noise that growled in his chest. He didn’t even know what he was laughing at. Laughing at her, _himself_ , or how scared and elated he was, or just because he _could_. He _could_ laugh because he wasn’t stuck in either of his two revolving hells.

White and black.

“What are you going to do, _Thistle Bayhaven?_ ” he spat, and she actually _hesitated_ when he did, “Are you going to use your magic on me? Go ahead! I can’t fight back. I’m stuck in here. I’m sure you’re used to it by now.”

“I told you to shut up.”

If Gaster had a heartbeat he was sure it would be killing him now with how fast it was going. He suppressed a shudder, though at this point he didn’t know if it was anger or spite or fear that fueled it.

“When did you get used to that, by the way?” Gaster asked, feigning some remnant of a questioning voice, “I know you humans don’t just crawl into existence _cruel_. If you did, I’d be _dead_ by now.”

She scowled, “You don’t know anything.”

“When did this kind of thing become _easy_ for you? Huh?” Gaster asked, pressing himself closer to barrier in front of him and he was _screaming_ at her, “How many monsters have you done this to? How many times have you come crawling back to one of your little cages and found nothing but a pile of dust? How does it feel knowing you can make a creature so _miserable_ they lose the will to _live?_ Ha! But of course _you don’t care.”_

Thistle wasn’t listening to him. He could tell in the way her body looked, all stiff like she was standing in a rehearsed position. Her eyes weren’t on him, they were somewhere else. Her expression was neutral. It was the look of someone who’d heard this before and stopped caring. He might as well be talking to stone.

That wouldn’t do at all.

“I’m not going to die here,” Gaster told her then with a certainty he didn’t feel, “I’m going to make it out of here.”

Thistle clasped her hands over the jewel on her staff, barely engaged in a word he was saying, “ _Really?_ Is that what you think?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Well, one word from me and you _would_ die here,” Thistle said matter-of-factly, and Gaster could see the red light of her staff spilling around her fingers, casting distorted little patches of light onto the ground like some vibrant, molten blood, “I could prove you wrong, _right now_.”

“Do it then!” he shouted at her, and he almost couldn’t believe he’d said the words. Gods he was _shaking_ , fearful and exhilarated as he snarled out a final whisper, “You’d be doing me a _goddamn favor_.”

Thistle glared up at him, _up_ , because now that he was standing he was towering over her. _Daring her_ to use some sort of spell. His hands were balled in fists at his sides, his body braced, his soul _writhing_. And she did _nothing_. She watched him, looking very much like she wanted nothing more than take his face in her hands and crack his skull open. But she didn’t move. For a while it didn’t look like she was even breathing.

“What?” Gaster laughed finally, and his voice cracking with relief he hadn’t expected to feel when she refused to move, “Nothing?”

“It’s not my decision to make,” she answered through gritted teeth, “Or trust me you’d be dust by now.”

“Not your decision to make,” Gaster parrotted back to her, spurred on by the success of his earlier boldness, “Why _not?_ You’re a strong little mage aren’t you? Stronger than all the other little mages running around here. What, does no one take you seriously?”

 _Oh_ that did it. If she was angry before she was _livid_ now. Everything from her stance to her intent shifted, and the air crackled with magic.

“That _is_ the trouble with you human girls, isn’t it?” Gaster asked spitefully, “You’re supposed to be back at home getting married and having all sorts of tiny baby humans so they can all grow up and kill things for you. What are _you_ of all things doing all the way out _here_ where you _obviously_ don’t belong? Because you’re good at magic? But you’re a _human girl_ , you don’t get to be _good at magic_ unless you’re using it to cook or clean or heal tiny coughs or helping other human girls have babies.”

Thistle clasped her staff in white-knuckled fists, muttering some incantation under her breath. But Gaster wasn’t afraid of it, not nearly as much as he _should be_ , because it wasn’t the _one word_ that always made him see white. She could do whatever the hell she wanted if it didn’t involve him being cast back into white.

“Must’ve been _real embarrassing_ when you lost an entire unit’s worth of monsters, huh?” Gaster hummed, “How long did it take you to convince someone you were capable of handling prisoners? And then any respect you had just got washed away with the current. No wonder nobody takes you seriously.”

She spat out the final word. Lightning leapt out of her staff that Gaster had no room to dodge - and probably couldn’t even if he did. The minute it touched him it overwhelmed him, a different kind of blinding white to all the black he’d been spewing. He crumpled to the ground in a heartbeat, curling up as small as he could manage. It hurt. It hurt his _soul_. It licked like fire across every bone and seared and crackled but most of all it _hurt his soul_. And it didn’t stop. It continued relentlessly no matter how he squirmed or shrieked or clawed at the air around him, no matter how small he crumpled in on himself. Every other second his whole body spasmed as his hp dropped in chunks, and no matter how tightly he held himself he _couldn’t stop it_. He was too wrapped up in the burning, piercing, jagged feeling of _magic_.

It hurt. _It hurt_.

And Thistle said nothing. Just watched him, scowling, waiting. Waiting until his shrieks turned into sobs and begging her to stop and then into nothing. She waited until there was almost nothing of him left. Waited until he was sure she was just going to let him die. And then finally it stopped, and he was left shaking on the ground, curled up so tightly his limbs were nearly tangled in his ribs. It took him a few seconds to remember how to breathe properly.

“You’re right, nobody takes me seriously,” Thistle said finally, “But how was I _supposed_ to win the fight on that stupid bridge? They sent me up against your _mage slayer._ What mage can kill that _thing?_ He keeps picking us off one by one and he _can’t die_. How was I supposed to win against _that?_ How do you kill _a wraithblaze?_ ”

Grillby. Gaster blinked his eye sockets open, his vision a bit too skewed up to focus on anything. But his thoughts were rooted sharply in her words. _She was talking about Grillby._

“We can’t even stop his magic from spreading,” she snarled bleakly, “It’s killing everything and we can’t do a damn thing. People are starting to think he’s actually made Gehenna on earth. People are starting to think _we deserve this_.”

Gaster managed a pathetic noise as close to a groan as he was going to get in this state. _Everything_ hurt. He could feel phantoms of the magic still tingling through him, which was unfortunate because it kept him from doing _anything_. Anything besides a sporadic and painful twitch or spasm against his own will.

He wanted to _talk_. He wanted to tell Thistle she _did_ deserve to burn in whatever hell she was fighting. _Her specifically_ if no one else. He _hated_ her. He hated her and _every mage like her._ But he couldn’t say that. And in the farthest corner of his soul he didn’t actually mean it. _He’d_ instigated this. _He’d_ started this. _He_ deserved this. None of this had to happen.

None of this had _ever_ had to happen.

_He didn’t have to piss her off._

_He didn’t have to break the barrier._

_He didn’t even have to fight in this war._

Gaster had been given every chance to avoid what was happening to him now. He could have never chosen to fight in the first place. He could have chosen to stay on the back of every battlefield he’d been on and heal monsters. He could have never let Ammy teach him how to fight. He could have never made those stupid blasters that had him trapped here now. He could have never tore that human’s soul apart, the _one human_ that had started all of this.

None of that had to happen. He deserved this, _every bit_ of this suffering. He deserved the desperation and the madness and the pain. He deserved to die here, if that was his fate. _He deserved this_.

Gaster was crying again, weakly enough that the rest of his body couldn’t cry with him - just tears and shuffled breathing. Thistle simply watched him, grim and hard-hearted. Then calmly, as if everything that had just happened were no more abnormal than being asked the time of day, she turned and walked off.

 

<hr />

 

The next day Thistle was gone again, and Gaster was doing damage control on his own soul. He still felt emotional and manic. He still felt like he didn’t know what to do with himself, with this strange constricting freedom he’d somehow been given. But at least now he knew when that little voice in the back of his head told him to scream and shout, that it was a _bad idea_. He had the marks on his bones to prove it.

Common sense. He needed to actually _use it_. Granted, right now his common sense was a little… _self destructive_ in nature. But he was sure if he was given enough time he could… snap out of it. Maybe.

All things considered, he’d actually made it out of the night rather well. The sleep he’d gotten had healed some of his staggered hp. Not much, but _enough_. Enough that he wasn’t falling down, at the very least. He was sore though, in a way different than the exhausted _empty_ soreness he’d felt during the white-and-black spells. He was sore in the slightly burning, buzzing migraine in the back of his skull sort of way. It felt like he had a throng of ants marching across his body in places, and breathing felt foreign and weird.

At least the lightning had been more _painful_ than actually _damaging._ Which now that Gaster thought about it, was probably Thistle’s intent. He was no good to them dead.

The doctor in him said this was a good thing, and he struggled to ignore the rest of his aching soul as it argued over whether or not it agreed. Gaster was starting to realize that his emotions were too erratic to judge anything reliably, so erratic that he had to keep grounding himself on the fact that it made sense for him to feel this way. He was desperate, he _knew_ he was desperate. The doctor in him knew this even if everything else about him was confused and scared and senseless, and if he could just reign it in enough to keep from _actually_ getting himself killed, everything would be fine.

But he was exhausted and torn and shaken _even more_ when he noticed his maximum hp had dropped. So shaken that when he noticed it in his stats, everything about him - mind body and soul - went blank. Somewhere in the mess of black and white and desperate outbursts he’d started losing hope enough for his _soul_ to change because of it.

He couldn’t go through this again.

It had taken him years to claw his way back up to some semblance of hopeful. It had taken him _years_ to make himself feel like life was worth living enough that his soul had gotten stronger. _Years_. Years of telling himself everything was okay, convincing himself living was worth it, listening to Amathea when she said he was justified and strong and needed.

He couldn’t do this. If he did this now, he’d never make it until whatever help was coming for him actually arrived.

_But maybe… it was worth it to give up. He wouldn’t have to be scared anymore. He wouldn’t have to be in pain anymore. He wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else ever again._

_… help probably wasn’t coming for him anyway…_

Gaster shook his head. No, he wasn’t allowed to think that. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the barrier behind him and thought of Grillby and Amathea instead. How distraught they’d be if they fought their way here for nothing. How much they’d blame themselves if he was dead before they arrived. Gods… that might actually _kill_ Grillby. Knowing how much he relied still on that stupid sense of _purpose_ , how he _had_ to protect someone with his life. It would kill him to know that not only had Gaster been captured, but he’d been helpless to keep him from falling down.

So... he wasn’t allowed to fall. If he could control _nothing else_ about his situation, he could at least _try_ not to fall. He wasn’t allowed to think stupid self-deprecating thoughts. He wasn’t allowed to give in to despair. For his friends’ sake, he wasn’t allowed. And maybe if he told himself that long enough, he’d actually make it. Even if half of him didn’t believe they were actually coming.

Gaster didn’t know how long he sat there, curled up in the farthest corner of his little prison and trying not to think. The attempt threw him into some apathetic nothingness, some place where he wasn’t quite awake enough to be awake, but not quite gone enough to be asleep, where the only thing he concentrated on was his breathing and all the weird burning feelings that still crawled across his limbs. He stayed there for… well... he didn’t know how long he stayed like that. All he knew was that it was _noise_ that brought him back to the present. Noise he tried to ignore, but persistently tugged at his senses until he resigned himself to becoming aware of his surroundings.

Gaster tried not to be too afraid to open his eyes. He tried to steel himself against whatever it was he was going to see. He tried to remind himself that whatever it was, he’d survive it, even if the creeping fear in his soul said he _wouldn’t_. He opened his eyes to see Rowan.

Well… at least Gaster could say it wasn’t what he was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually bursting with the research I've done for the past week and a half, but none of my researched things are in this chapter. Next chapter, there is going to be SO MANY RESEARCH NOTES thrown at you guys. Assuming I can remember all my links.
> 
> Well. _Actually_. I did research the effects of lightning strikes on the body for this chapter, and had to like... seriously think to myself the effects that would have on something like Gaster. I mean, the reason lightning kills you is because it does stuff to your muscles (mainly your heart and brain). Gaster has no muscles! I don't -- I just --- fffffffffffffffffffffff
> 
> Also, this chapter is a fun peek at human culture!


	62. Ashfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn a few things about Gaster and there's snow on the canvas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've got three weeks' worth of fanart feature guys, are you ready??? Cuz holy heck they're fantastic.
> 
> The first _several_ are from cococaramel154 on Deviantart, who seem to have been having a field day sketching up the guys in [all](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/the-hell-are-you-Casting-Rain-657023144) [ sorts](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/hand-lessons-Casting-Rain-657024511) [ of](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/kill-me-now-pls-Casting-Rain-657026989) [ awesome ](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/Can-t-lose-this-friend-Casting-Rain-657544703) [scenarios. ](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/they-will-know-my-pain-CastingRain-spoilers-ish-657025119) The last two there are my favorite for a thousand reasons I can hardly describe.
> 
> Next up is Loumun-Versen back again and stabbing me with FEELS. They did a piece depicting [Grillby right after Ammy passed](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/UT-She-said-658859639) and it made my heart do a funny skip thing when I saw it.
> 
> And last but certainly not least we have Kakurosu returning with their awesome colored pencil art! And I swear every time I see it it keeps getting cooler and cooler. They drew several scenes [from the](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-Campfire-Stories-652461190) [ last](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-chapter-56-657354060) [few](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-chapter-57-657355056) [chapters](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-chapter-59-657355716), and they're all fantastic!
> 
> I THINK I've linked everything I have? I don't think I was tagged in anything on Tumblr. But! We've already established I forget/lose things, so if you think I missed you please throw a brick at my face or something!

Rowan was sitting just on the other side of the barrier Gaster was trapped behind. For now, the little human wasn’t paying him any attention. The noise they were making that had made Gaster so paranoid was simply the ruffling of pages as they rifled through one of Thistle’s many books. From the looks of it they were either an _extremely fast_ reader, or they were just looking at the beautifully drawn runes that decorated some of the pages. Probably the latter. Rowan didn’t really seem old enough to be proficient in reading quite yet. Though… it _had_ been awhile since Gaster had seen many human children. His ability to distinguish age had probably gotten worse than it already had been.

What he _could_ easily see was that they weren’t doing well. They looked pale and cold, even bundled up in furred clothes and cloak alike, and Gaster could see the slightest bit of trembling in their hands as they turned the pages. Their bright blonde hair was thinning, dull and brittle. What bits of their body Gaster could see looked withered and skeletal - a frightful thing for humans, even if Gaster didn’t find it all that frightening. It was especially bad for a child though. Granted, it was winter, so humans _did_ tend to fare pretty badly. There was less to eat and it was harder to stay warm, and humans got sicker and thinned out a bit. But he could tell whatever was afflicting the child wasn’t only the cold. If it _were_ , it wouldn’t just be Rowan looking thin and fragile. Thistle would’ve been wasting away too - and she _definitely_ wasn’t.

Gaster watched the child read somewhat distractedly. There was a word for what was wrong with them, wasn’t there? Oh gods it’d been awhile… but he’d treated this before so he knew…? _Oh_. Gaster let out a quick, satisfied whistle through his teeth. _Marasmus_. Right. That’s what that was called. It was mostly a human disease - monsters didn’t get it unless something was seriously wrong with their soul.

Rowan’s head snapped up when they heard Gaster whistle, brilliant blue eyes flickering through surprise for a moment before they smiled, and everything about their disposition brightened as they did.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Gaster frowned down at them, trying to remind himself that this was a _mage_ and not just some happy-go-lucky child. Which was hard, since he had… a pretty big soft spot for children. They were always so lively and inquisitive, and full of questions that most adults were too busy to ask. They also tended to be empty of the judgment and cruelty of their parents - a fact Gaster was learning to appreciate more and more.

Rowan had their staff balancing across their knees, the crystal at the end of it pulsing in flickering color. It would probably pulse like that for as long as the barrier was up. _Gods_ that had to be tiring. Gaster couldn’t imagine holding a bone attack for more than a few hours straight, let alone keeping together a spell as consuming as a barrier. It was no wonder the child was wasting away as they were.

“You don’t look so good,” Rowan chirped, “Is that why you were sleeping?”

Gaster blinked at them, a bit too tired and apathetic for the moment to bother answering. It was probably best he didn’t humor them, right?

“I know you can talk, monster,” Rowan said, frowning stubbornly at Gaster, “I’m trying to be nice. You can at _least_ talk back.”

Gaster blinked at them again, his expression blank and unyielding. Right. Common sense said this was a bad idea. This was probably some trick. Someone was trying to goad him into a false sense of security. He had no idea _why_. Any information any human could _possibly_ want from him, they’d learned a long time ago - _he didn’t know how he knew that_ \- so doing more now was a bit pointless. Unless this was some new torment they’d concocted for him.

It would be a bad idea to play along...

Rowan hadn’t stopped watching him with those bright blue eyes. It was almost startling how much life they seemed to have when compared to how badly their body was wasting away. They heaved a dramatic sigh and closed the book they’d been reading with all the firm seriousness of a judge pronouncing a death sentence - something that looked almost laughably ridiculous when this child was doing it.

“Okay, look,” Rowan said, their tone going somber, “I have a _very serious question_ and only _you_ can answer it.”

Gaster had to stifle a laugh. Instead he put his chin in one of his hands, frowning inwardly at himself as he took the bait, “And what might that be?”

Rowan grinned, all their previous facade of seriousness dropping in an instant as they asked with almost giddy excitement, “Are you a necromancer?”

The skeleton struggled to hide his grin. _What?_

They didn’t wait for him to answer, instead bubbling excitedly, “You’ve _got to be,_ right? Bracken says necromancers aren’t real - but you’re _totally_ a necromancer! You mess with souls! You fight with bones! You summon big dead things to fight for you - !”

Gaster had to stifle a grin - this kid was _amazing_. Just watching their excitement made him want to confirm it. Sure necromancers weren’t… _really_ real, but it would be cruel not to let the kid dream, right? Gaster let out a heavy sigh. He shouldn’t be humoring them, honestly. This would bring nothing but disappointment for them later.

“You caught me,” Gaster hummed, an amused smile curling across his teeth as Rowan lit up with wonder, “I’m a _scary necromancer._ ”

“ _Woah!_ That’s so cool!”

Gaster chuckled tiredly, feigning some tone of self-importance, “ _Only_ cool? You do me a disservice. I’m awesome and powerful.”

Rowan grinned, leaning in and positively eating up every word. _Gods_. Gaster had forgotten how much he loved kids. But he had to rein himself back before he said anything else. _Assuming_ this wasn’t some kind of well-fabricated trap, he could still get in trouble just from being _close_ to Rowan. Heaven’s knew he’d been _so close_ to killing them last time they met. If any other mages found out the child was in here…

Then of course, there was always the possibility that this _was_ some sort of trap, and some new hell was waiting for him at the edge of this child’s whims. He… doubted that idea a bit. But his nervousness wouldn’t let it go.

“You should leave you know,” Gaster said, trying to sound at least vaguely threatening, “Before I… put a hex on you or something.”

He leaned forward a little, letting a soft flicker of magic flash up into the lights of his eyes, “Unless you want your soul to be enslaved for _all of eternity_.”

Rowan laughed, smiling back at him, “You can’t hurt me! You’re in a barrier.”

“How silly of me.” Gaster sat back and sighed with a tired, bitter smile.

“Besides,” Rowan chirped, “If you _really_ wanted to hurt me, wouldn’t you have done it already? You could have put a spell on me back in the circle, you know?”

“Perhaps,” Gaster hummed, feigning a mischievous tone, “Or maybe I _already_ put a spell on you, and you just don’t know it.”

Rowan let out a dramatic gasp - more awed and playful than scared. Good. Gaster didn’t… _really_ want to scare them anyway. Gaster wiggled the fingers of his free hand in their direction.

“By my power as an _all mighty necromancer_ ,” he said with a smirk, “Come to life my foul spell!”

Of course nothing happened. Though watching Rowan screw their eyes shut and hold their breath was the strangest mix of humorous and adorable. Gaster sighed, a strange battle of fondness and reluctance writhing around inside him. This shouldn’t be happening. Oh _gods_ what was he doing? Was he seriously playing around with this human child – no – this _child mage?_ He was going to regret this later, he just _knew it._

Rowan giggled, “Nothing happened.”

“Hmm… odd,” Gaster answered noncommittally, “You must have a strong soul then, little mage.”

 _Mage_. That word left an awful taste in his mouth.

“I do!” Rowan said, puffing out their chest proudly, “I have a _really_ strong soul! That’s why I keep up the barrier.”

Their smile dropped abruptly, and Gaster couldn’t help but frown as they said a bit more haltingly, “Which… reminds me…”

They looked up at him, bright eyes pleading, “I actually wanted to ask… could you heal me? _Please?”_

Well, he hadn’t expected _that_. Gaster watched the child dumbfounded, unable to think of a single thing to say. Rowan looked down at their lap, fidgeting fingers picking at the book they had, “Sorry. I… I’m a really _really_ strong mage but… I’m also really sick. And I feel really bad today.”

Gaster sighed out a short breath. _This poor child_.

“Normally Thistle heals me,” they continued a bit falteringly, as if they were begrudgingly giving up some deep secret, “But she’s gone fighting Gehenna. But you healed me once, right? You could heal me just a little? Until she gets back?”

Gaster shook his head, “I can’t heal you.”

“But you healed me before!” Rowan said, indignant and disappointed.

Gaster gave them a sympathetic sort of frown, reaching a hand forward to tap his knuckles against the barrier in front of Rowan’s face.

“My magic can’t get through this, remember?”

Rowan cast a hopeless glance down at their staff.

“And besides,” Gaster hummed, looking for some way to explain, “My uh… special… necromancer… magic…? Doesn’t work like Thistle’s does. I can only heal little things, like cuts in hands and things like that. I’d need a lot more magic than I have now to fix you.”

Rowan scowled down at their hands, twiddling their thin fingers together self-consciously, “It’s… that bad huh?”

Gaster liked them much better when they were laughing - even if they were extremely thin, emaciated, child-mage laughs.

“You _do know_ ,” Gaster said gently, “That the barrier is making you sick right?”

Rowan nodded dismally. After a pause they mumbled, “... it’s a lot of magic.”

“I know you’re scared of getting in trouble,” Gaster said as kindly as he could manage, “But if you let the barrier drop you’ll probably feel a _lot better_. I’m sure if you explain to the other mages that it’s hurting you they’ll understand.”

“I can’t.”

“Now, don’t be stubborn,” Gaster said warningly, “You’ll just get sicker.”

“No really, _I can’t,_ ” Rowan insisted, looking up at him pleadingly, “It’s a different word to take the spell down, and I don’t know it. And Bracken’s gone too so I can’t ask.”

Gaster blinked at them incredulously, “No one taught you how?”

Rowan shook their head, shrinking away from Gaster just a bit, looking… ashamed. Like they were about to get into trouble for some silly thing they had done. It didn’t help that Gaster was scowling now. He knew that but he couldn’t help it - he was _angry_. This child was _sick._ They were sick and maybe even _dying,_ and the only thing that had been sustaining them was a few jolts of healing magic every once in a while when they felt sick? Did _no one notice_ how much they were wasting away? And all of this for the sake of keeping up some stupid barrier. Whatever was left of Gaster’s optimism prayed this was ignorance. He _prayed_ this was some miscommunication, that this kind of cruelty thrown at a child wasn’t deliberate. And he hoped every god they had ever believed in damned them all to hell if it _was_.

Gaster hissed out a tense breath, “Are there… _any_ doctors in camp?”

“ _No_ ,” Rowan frowned at him, “I told you, Thistle left to fight-”

“Not a _healer_ ,” Gaster interrupted, and Rowan flashed him a confused look, “A _doctor_. Someone who knows herbs and how to make remedies.”

“Of course not,” Rowan said matter-of-factly, as if it were stupid that Gaster would even ask such a thing, “Magic fixes everything.”

“ _Child_ ,” Gaster snapped, “If magic fixed everything you wouldn’t be asking for help right now, would you?”

Rowan opened their mouth to say something, paused and seemed to think better of it. They looked back down at the book in their lap. Gaster watched them, at a loss for what to do. He _couldn’t_ heal them. Human souls were just too big for his kind of magic to help with something like this when Gaster was working alone - especially when the barrier kept sapping away the child’s strength. He’d spoon-feed them bits of magic just for it to be ripped away again. And while he could tell them how to treat the marasmus - the thing _caused_ by the barrier - it was useless with the barrier still intact. Why bother trimming the weed if the roots were still strangling? Especially when he didn’t know how long it would take for a mage who could actually help to get here?

The obvious - and _stupid -_ solution would be to let Rowan walk inside his tiny barrier and just fiddle with their soul again. He’d take _their_ barrier down, but then they’d be trapped inside _his_. He doubted they’d be trapped for long of course. _Everyone_ would notice the main barrier had collapsed and would send for a mage immediately. But Gaster could only see all that ending in himself getting killed and the humans throwing the barrier back on Rowan again.

Gaster sighed, pinching the space between his eye sockets, cycling through everything he remembered about healing humans - it’d been awhile.

“You need to get rid of that barrier,” he muttered bitterly. That was the _real_ problem.

“I know, but I _can’t_.”

“And there’s never been a doctor here ever?” Gaster asked again, frowning, “Nowhere you could get supplies from one or…?”

Rowan shook their head again, and Gaster scowled at his hands. He gave a short, exasperated sign, “This would be so much easier if I could just go out and look for things _myself_. Well… we can at least keep you from getting sicker. You need to eat. That’s the first thing.”

Rowan gave him a dubious look, “I _do_ eat though.”

“You’re not eating enough of the right things,” Gaster clarified stumbling over all he could remember. Trying to water down medical practice for a child to understand was a bit too awkward of a task for his scattered mind to handle, “It’s… complicated to explain. It’s a bit like… you’re a lamp and you’re constantly burning - and you’re running out of things to burn. Your magic is eating away more of you than you’re taking in.”

Well, Rowan sure looked lost on that one. Gaster sighed and said, “You need three meals a day probably, and a lot of rest, preferably someplace warm and dry…”

Gaster frowned, “There’s actually something you should be drinking too but I doubt you could make it yourself - if you even have what you need here.”

Rowan watched on contemplatively as Gaster stumbled over his words, looking the perfect mixture of intrigued and confused, “How do you know all this?”

“Because I’m a doctor,” Gaster said simply, “For humans _and_ monsters, when I’m allowed.”

“But… I thought you were a necromancer?”

This made Gaster hesitate. There was a haunting sort of irony here that Rowan would never understand. _No one_ could really, save for Gaster himself because he’d lived it. A strange, bitter sort of emotion wriggled through him when he answered.

Gaster clasped his hands together in his lap, trying not to feel self-conscious, “I am. But I was a doctor first.”

Gods he was feeling uncomfortable, like something invisible was staring at him. He felt… guilty.

“But necromancers use death magic,” Rowan argued, still innocently confused, “How can you use death magic _and_ heal people?”

They paused and then added more as an indignant sort of afterthought, “And isn’t healing magic _girl_ magic?”

Then they gasped, “Are you a _girl?”_

Gaster couldn’t help himself - he laughed. Gods he loved kids. He loved their questions and he loved their reactions.

Gaster smiled, “Monsters don’t really care about things like that. If you can use green magic, you can be a healer. The same goes for fighting magic, actually. One of the strongest warriors I know is a girl. She’s really loud and angry, but she’s still the nicest person I’ve ever met. You’d like her.”

Rowan grinned, recognition dawning, “She sounds like Thistle.”

Gaster felt like someone had clenched a fist around his soul. Before he could stop himself he snapped, “Ammy is _nothing_ like Thistle.”

Rowan flinched at this, blinking up at Gaster, startled for a few seconds. Gaster sighed. Right, this was a _child_. They probably didn’t understand… They probably had no idea how _cruel…_ they probably didn’t know what Thistle was doing to him. Gaster tried not to be bitter about that.

“They’re just… _different_ ,” he said gentler, apologetically, and Rowan seemed content to let the subject drop.

“Anyway, uhm… I… wanted to be a healer before any of this… necromancer… business,” Gaster continued a bit falteringly, “But something in my soul doesn’t work right for it. So I settled instead on learning how to be a doctor - because they can still heal people without using magic.”

Gaster laughed and smiled fondly, “The master I was apprenticed to was amazing, actually. The best doctor for miles. I was surprised he took me on as an apprentice, really. He was a human like you. He’s the one that taught me about stuff like what’s making you sick. He even tried teaching me how to use healing runes? My soul wasn’t strong enough for them but… it was interesting to learn. It was while I was with him that I noticed all souls are different. And I thought if I could figure out what was different about _my soul_ that wouldn’t let me use healing magic, maybe I could change it so I could.”

Gaster let out a regretful laugh, “It… didn’t work.”

He moved his hands, pulling his soul out with it. Rowan watched in amazement as the glowing, purple soul dissolved itself in the skeleton’s hands, sprawling out in a sea of cords, “I could never weave all these little cords together in a way that could let me heal things. I still don’t think I can. But I figured out how to make new magic like this -”

Gaster summoned a pair of his ethereal hands, signing a few words for the awestruck child before letting them disappear again.

“Of course… everyone started to get nervous when they found out I was working on souls,” Gaster flashed the child a rueful smile, “You know, you humans don’t really like it when monsters start messing with souls.”

Rowan nodded wisely to this, “Yeah, it’s bad.”

Well… that was debatable. But it was a debate that would be lost on a child.

“So I ended up having to leave,” Gaster shrugged, “I went to the monster capitol, and told them about my magic and I thought maybe my magic could help.. But the capitol was talking about summoning a lot of these new monsters instead, and training them up for the war. So I left to go heal people instead.”

Gaster felt that uncomfortable, guilty sort of feeling writhe to life in his chest again, “And then – uh – something happened there. Something… really scary.”

He had to fight the need to fidget. Of course, Rowan didn’t need to know what happened, and Gaster had no intentions of explaining, “And it made me realize all that magic I had learned to heal people could hurt them. And I thought it was a good thing. I started making strong magics and had someone teach me how to fight. I didn’t really want to be a doctor anymore. I thought it was pointless.”

Gaster sighed, “Now I’m wondering if being a necromancer isn’t worse.”

Gaster tilted his head in Rowan’s direction, managing a wan smile, “What do you think?”

Rowan looked at him thoughtfully for a few long moments, their lips pursed and eyebrows lowered in a contemplative expression that Gaster once again found himself wanting to laugh at. It was adorable in its seriousness.

“Well,” they said finally, “You always wanted to be a healer right?”

Gaster nodded.

“Did you _want_ to be a necromancer?”

That was… actually a good question. And one that Gaster didn’t really know the answer to. One some level, he was sure he _did_ want to use his magic this way. But only in the sense that he wanted to help people and… this was the way the world told him he had to help. Monsters and humans didn’t want doctors. They didn’t want _healers_. They wanted to fight. They wanted war.

Gaster had decided if it meant helping people, he wanted that too. But… looking back on it now… he wasn’t helping anyone, was he? He was hurting people. He was killing them. And the more he’d done it the easier it became. The first human he’d killed he’d had nightmares over. His soul had stumbled over the fearsomeness of it. But the next? Not so much. Nor the one after that. They blurred together, a sea of danger that needed to vanish, and so he used his magic to vanish it. It was like an itch, recurring but never quite as bad as the first time he’d scratched it. And like an itch it was easier to scratch at again and again than to treat the disease that caused it.

In the end it had caused him nothing but trouble, hadn’t it? It left him captured and in pain and weak. It left him alone and scared and wretched, with barely enough hope left in his soul to keep from falling down.

Maybe… Maybe when he got out of this he would stop fighting.

If he survived, if he _lived_ , maybe he would go back to just being a doctor. Maybe he would go back to being nothing. He could go back to the Capitol and wait until the fighting was over and the dust had settled. He could run. He could _hide_. He could pretend none of it had ever existed. Maybe that was for the best.

Maybe that was how he was supposed to be in the first place.

After all, he wasn’t ever meant to be a healer - he wasn’t born with the gift and he’d proven again and again that he couldn’t learn it for himself. He was too weak to be a fighter, and his attempts had brought him the mess he was in now. If he ever made it out of this, maybe he should stop pretending to be something he wasn’t.

Gaster looked up to see that Rowan had lost their interest in him, tottering to their feet somewhat weakly and moving to put away the heavy book that they’d had in their lap. They struggled a bit under its weight, something that Gaster frowned at. _Goodness_ this child was weak.

“Leaving me, are you?” Gaster asked with a mild smile.

“It’s snowing,” Rowan answered with a shrug, nodding to the open tent doorway, “I should probably get back to my tent.”

Gaster let out a long whistle through his teeth, “Yeah, the cold and wet will mess with your humors.”

He chuckled at the questioning look the child shot him, “More doctor things. The snow will make you sicker.”

“Oh.”

“You remember what I said earlier about eating and resting?” Gaster asked a bit more seriously, “Make sure you do that, alright?”

“I will!” Rowan answered back with all the enthusiasm the small child could muster. They bundled up in their cloak and furs, smiling back at him one last time, “Thanks for trying to help, monster-necromancer. I’m sorry you couldn’t learn healing stuff.”

“I am too,” Gaster said with a forlorn sort of laugh, “Now go, before you catch a cold.”

Rowan nodded and bounded off, but lost their momentum quickly when they stepped outside. Almost immediately they stopped, shielding their eyes and mouth and letting out a few gruesome-sounding coughs. Gaster was on his feet in a second, frowning and watching as Rowan held a hand out to the soft powder floating to the ground around them. They watched it questioningly, breathing shakily against the hand that covered their mouth.

“Rowan?” Gaster called cautiously, “Are you alright?”

“It’s not snow.”

“What?”

“It’s not snow,” they repeated, their voice pitching into something worried, “I don’t know what it is!”

“Well get back inside, child,” Gaster commanded, trying to sound more mothering than outright _worried_ , “Whatever it is, you probably shouldn’t be _standing_ in it.”

Rowan bounded back in the tent, coughing a little more as they slipped their hood off their head and the white powder that had collected there scattered across their face. As they hurriedly swatted the stuff of their clothes, some of it plumed and wafted its way through the barrier Gaster was caught behind. The skeleton held out a hand, watching as the fine grains of whatever-it-was floated to a rest on his spindly fingers. Rowan was right. It _definitely_ wasn’t snow. It was soft and grey, with a texture that was a bit more feathery than sand. It was familiar… and it took a second for Gaster to recognize it.

“Ash?” he asked, rolling the familiar texture around in his fingers, “It’s raining ash?”

It was then that shouts started to break out, voices ringing to life around the camp as other people started to realize what was falling from the sky. Gaster couldn’t really make out what they were saying, but their tones didn’t sound reassuring.

“What’s going on?” Rowan asked, concern and fear mingling in their expression, “Is it Gehenna?”

“I don’t know.”

Gehenna. He didn’t know much about it, but from the _sounds_ of it, it was just fire, right? Albeit, fire that a lot of people were afraid of. But surely a single fire couldn’t cause something like _this_. Gaster had never heard anything about ash raining from the sky - nothing outside of religious texts anyway. Was that why Thistle had been so ragged when he’d seen her last, all covered in soot and burns? Was that why she wasn’t here now? Was the fire getting closer to them?

Before Gaster could ask, a form came bursting into the tent - a frazzled mess of singed hair and ash and the sharp smell of smoke. It took a second for Gaster to recognize it as Thistle, looking even more exhausted than the last time he’d seen her. She took a moment to dust herself off, coughing as she did so, each of the sounds deep and rattling from the bottom of every breath. _Gods_ she didn’t sound good. She sounded like she’d been gasping in smoke for the last hour. She probably had.

Gaster took a cautious step away from Rowan when he saw her, nervousness and fear curling hands around his soul. She wouldn’t hurt him just for talking to the kid all day, would she? She didn’t have a reason to do something like that right?

Thistle took a fleeting look around the tent, sighing out a breath of relief when her eyes fell on Rowan, “There you are. I didn’t find you in your tent.”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing at all, Rowan,” Thistle crooned back at them, and Gaster found it hard to believe such a gentle tone from the mage was even possible, “Could you do me a favor and help me look for something?”

She pulled a book out of the pile, flipping it open to a certain page and holding it out to Rowan, “I’m looking for an ice spell with this rune here. Help me find it, won’t you?”

Huh… well the rune looked familiar at least, even if Gaster couldn’t place it.

Rowan nodded, reaching for a pile of books nearby and scattering a few of them in the process. Gaster flinched back a step as a few tumbled their way towards his little cage of magic. He blinked up at the two humans as they began scouring the pages before them. Thistle was a mess of motion, thumbing through pages in a blur of motion and a flutter of sound. She was through three books before Rowan was through their first one.

Gaster glanced back at the ash falling outside. He didn’t know too much about runes so it was hard to say, but Thistle was obviously looking for something powerful - more powerful than the ice magic she could make already, which was a feat. Was the fire really that bad? And if she couldn’t stop it… what would happen to Rowan? The child couldn’t _leave_ , not without dispelling the barrier first. Trying to rip them away from this spell this big might kill them, especially when they were already so weak. Did Thistle know how to tear the barrier down? He… wasn’t even sure the one he was trapped behind was _hers_. He _assumed_ but… he had no real proof.

“Spell hunting?” Gaster asked finally, his voice breaking the monotony of rifling pages. He gleaned a surprised look from Rowan - the kid had probably never heard him speak the monster language before, “Wouldn’t have to do with the weird blizzard we have going on, would it?”

“Hush,” Thistle barked back, barely looking up long enough to throw him an angry glance.

“Does this have anything to do with that weird hell-thing you were ranting about?”

“ _Gehenna_ ,” Thistle corrected, and Gaster felt his soul flutter with nervousness when he heard the tone in her voice - gods just talking to her made him feel like he was standing on the edge of a cliff. Except this time he didn’t have Grillby there to break his fall.

“Gehenna _is_ a hell-thing,” Gaster pointed out a little more hesitant this time.

“Gehenna is a wall of fire,” Thistle growled, sounding exasperated, “And it’s heading right for us.”

“What? _How?”_

Thistle gave an infuriated sort of flail with her arms, losing her place in the book she was reading as the pages ruffled from the motion, “How the hell should _I know?_ The wind shifted directions maybe - ? Why do you care?”

With that she got back to her looking.

Gaster cast a dubious look up to the ceiling of the tent, where the tarp was for the most part still and unmoving. Sure there were walls around the camp, but if there was wind, _some of it_ would make it here to move things around right? Even the ash fall outside came down in straight lines, wafting unhindered by any breeze that could make it drift. If there was no wind, it made no sense for even the _ash_ to be falling here, let alone for the _flame itself_ to be pushed in this direction. There had to be some driving force -

Gaster felt a pang of something like excitement shoot through his soul and every logical thought he was holding onto froze and shattered.

No. No it couldn’t be. There was no way. It was unthinkable. It… It might be… What if it was…? Maybe he was just being optimistic and hopeful. It was _impossible_. That _couldn’t be_ what he thought it was.

With a jolt Gaster realized his breathing had sped up. He didn’t know what it was - excitement or panic or something else entirely. Suddenly _all_ he could think about was keeping Thistle from finding that ice spell. He needed her to stay distracted and out of the way. He needed… He needed…!

It was then that Gaster noticed some of the books Rowan had dropped were so _close_ to him. Close enough that two of them fell inside the barrier if only _just barely_ , half their bindings sticking out the other side of the magic wall. Gaster glanced up at Thistle and Rowan, both still pouring through books. Back down at the two by his feet. Back up again, his soul writhing fearfully. He waited and timed himself, watching for when Thistle was in the middle of opening another book before grabbing one of the ones that had fallen, clutching it delicately with blue and sliding it towards him. There was some resistance, the confused magic of the barrier not sure what to do with something that was halfway in and halfway out, but eventually it gave. Then cautiously, one page at a time, Gaster started looking. Looking for the rune Thistle had flashed in his direction.

His blue magic jittered, his soul taught with nervousness and the control it took to rifle through pages without making an unbearable amount of noise. He glanced a few ice spells, always feeling a jolt like lighting rock through him when he peered at the runes - but none of them were the _right one_. None of them were the one Thistle was looking for. He made it to the end of the book, holding his breath because if he didn’t he knew he’d let out some sort of exasperated noise.

Right. Of course his luck wouldn’t be good enough for something like that. The fates couldn’t possible align _once_ to give him the break he needed.

There was still one book within his reach.

Gaster waited again, impatient and fearful and hesitant all at once. Thistle moved on to a different book, and in the second her back was turned he slid the last book towards him. This one he recognized from the way the pages were decorated - it was the one Rowan had been looking at earlier. He flipped through these pages a little quicker, lingering on each page long enough to see if it was an ice spell before turning away again. Like before, every spell he saw that _might_ be the one he needed sent an electric shock through him. Fear, exhilaration, the _need_ to find what he was looking for all crashed down on him in some kind of spine-shuddering feeling of anticipation, only to wash away again into disappointment when he didn’t find the _one spell - !_

“Ah!” Rowan exclaimed, and every inch of Gaster’s body froze, “Is this it?”

Gaster felt panic rise in his throat like bile. He didn’t know what terrified him _more_ , the thought that Rowan may have found the spell, or that Thistle was turning around to look in _his direction._ What did he do? Did he just stand there and hold his breath and _pray_ she didn’t happen to notice the books at his feet? Maybe if he stepped in front of them - but if he moved he’d draw attention to - _shit, what should he do?_

Thistle peered down at the book Rowan was showing her, scanning the page and shaking her head - thank _gods_ she wasn’t paying Gaster even a second of attention, “That’s the wrong rune, sweetheart. I need this one.”

She flashed Rowan the rune she needed again, and Gaster tried to memorize it as inconspicuously as possible. Wait. He _knew_ he’d seen that. Had he passed it, thinking of the wrong one? Thistle turned her back to Gaster again, and as fast as the skeleton could he rifled through the books he had, his eyes constantly darting from one page to the other, to Thistle and Rowan. One page, the next, Thistle, Rowan. One page, the next, Thistle, Rowan. One page -

Gaster froze. There. _There_. He was sure of it. It was an ice spell, clearly inscribed with that grand spiraling rune that Thistle was searching for. It was a creeping ice spell, like a breath of frost. Something powerful enough to yank water from the air and spew it forward like a wave. If the pictures opposite the spell were any indication, it could freeze people solid. It would be a terrifying spell in _any_ mage’s hands.

Gaster held his breath, waiting for Thistle to turn her back completely to him again and reach for a new book - and swift as he could he whisked the insidious spell books into his inventory. For a few seconds Gaster just stood there and waited, head spinning, an unbearable sort of terror clinging to his soul. Nobody had seen that, right? Nobody knew he’d just - ? No it… it didn’t look like it. Thistle was still preoccupied, shoveling her way through books with reckless abandon while Rowan more or less entertained themselves just looking at pictures and symbols. No one noticed. No one knew.

Now he just had to sit in his corner and wait, and try not to draw too much attention to himself.

It took a short eternity for Thistle and Rowan to make it through all the books in the room, and even _longer_ for Thistle to admit defeat. She poured over a few of the tomes a second time, grinding her teeth together with growing exasperation when she couldn’t find the one she _needed_ \- the one Gaster was so neatly hiding away. The ash was thick on the ground and heavy on the canvas over head when in her anger Thistle kicked one of the piles of books over. The sudden noise startled both Gaster and Rowan, and scattered a few loose pages across the floor.

“Fine!” Thistle barked in aggrivation, “I’ll make do without it!”

The mage heaved a deep sigh, calming her tone just a bit before saying, “Alright Rowan, stay close to me. We need to make sure you stay safe until Bracken gets back.”

Gaster felt his soul leap into his throat. Wait, she was taking Rowan _with her?_ But - !

“Thistle, wait a second!” Gaster shouted, catching the mage’s attention. He had to resist the urge to shrink back away from her when she fixed a glare in his direction.

“U-uhm,” he stammered, “Do you…? Uh… the barrier. You should teach Rowan to drop the barrier.”

Thistle’s scowl deepened, and she took a threatening step towards him, her presence looming over him even if she was shorter than he was. Gaster couldn’t help himself - he flinched back a step. He was scared. Scared of _her_ , and scared of her finding out what he was hiding. But… for a few seconds he could convince himself he was scared for Rowan _more_.

“ _Why?”_

“Y… you said the fire is heading this way, right?” Gaster asked, hands up pleadingly as if it could somehow ward off anything she might decide to throw at him, “If you can’t stop it, you’ll have to run. Right?”

Thistle frowned at him and said nothing, but he could see the spark of some recognition in her eyes at least.

“This barrier is like a parasite,” Gaster said a little more assuredly this time, “And it’ll just keep taking more out of the kid the farther they get from it. It could - it _will_ kill them Thistle. _Please_.”

Thistle regarded him for a long moment, questioning, bitter - but she knew he was _right_. She would be a sad excuse for a mage if she didn’t know this already. For a few seconds Thistle looked on the verge of saying something - probably some question about why he cared. But whatever she was going to say, she bit back. Instead Thistle just ushered Rowan closer, putting an arm protectively around his shoulder as she turned to leave.

“Worry about yourself,” she snarled. She paused long enough to make sure Rowan had something tied around their mouth and nose so the falling ash wouldn’t choke them, and then she led them off. The two of them vanished into the haze outside, joining the bustling forms as humans ran back and forth, trying to make sense of the coming threat.

Gaster sighed and slumped back in his prison, shivering and nervous. He watched the ash fall. Hoping. Praying. Reaching out to every god or goddess he’d ever heard of. Even some he’d probably made up at some point. _Please_ let the ash be falling for a reason. _Please_ let the fire be something with intent. _Please_ let help be on its way.

_Please let it be Grillby._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I've got a nice list of research and life updates and apologizing to do so I'll just... bold all the important stuff and you guys can skim the rest! Do the Rowan thing - look for the pretty symbols!
> 
>  **So first off, I am so profusely sorry this chapter took so long to get finished guys**. To those of you who don't follow me around Tumblr/Deviantart, and who don't know what was going on, basically depression kicked me in the teeth. We won't get too far into it. I'm rebounding back up now. We are going to try and move on and be stronger people next time and all those flowery things. I'd like to thank all the Tumblr/DA people for all of the support and well-wishes, and for helping me crawl back to life. Seriously you have... literally no idea.... 
> 
> **Secondly! Research notes!**  
>  So this chapter has been rewritten 8000 times and in the process 90% of the research I did became null. But! Some still made it in the chapter! Yay it was not all for naught!
> 
> So~ _Marasmus._  
>  We'll start out by saying there are two kinds of wasting diseases (well, neatly described ones that I could research with some ease) that were documented in medieval medical texts. The more common one (if my searching is any indication) was actually not _Marasmus_ but instead _Atrophy_. However Atrophy is the wasting away of the body associated with tuberculosis. And since Rowan is just wasting away with no prior disease attached, I went with Marasmus instead.
> 
> Marasmus, like Atrophy, is the progressive wasting away of the body - though this one is more closely associated with malnutrition than TB. Though I've seen it used interchangeably with atrophy before. Marasmus is also specifically described as being seen in children and the elderly, and we know in modern times it has to do with severe protein deficiency. Back in ye olden times, they also believed marasmus was associated with aging - or the affliction that comes with age - and (if I remember right) children afflicted with it were also assumed to be sick of the soul (put's a whole new meaning to the phrase "an old soul" huh?).  
> Marasmus was also described by ohhh... god I lost that article damn it. Anyway, there was a more famous medieval doctor who wrote a paper on marasmus and used the description I did in-story ~ the analogy that you're like a burning lamp. Except his was a little more particular. He said that the human body was like a lamp, holding both wick and oil. If you were afflicted mildly by the disease, you were burning your oil, which was easily replaced with food and rest. The trouble came when you were out of 'oil' and began burning your 'wick' (which we know now is your body breaking down tissues during the severe stages of malnutrition). If you burned up your 'wick', then your lamp would no longer be able to burn. You'd die.
> 
> While I didn't find an explicit 'cure' for marasmus, I found a cure for the atrophy associated with TB, which was "equal portions rum and boiled milk, sweetened with a loaf of sugar". That cure was from the 1800s though, wayyy after poor Rowan would have wanted it. 
> 
> We also talked about humors again - briefly - this chapter. Humors were associated with the four elements of the body - water, fire, earth, air. Winter was associated with the cold and wet, and the fevers caused by it were associated with... uh... hot and wet I think is the right one. Which means if Rowan comes down with a cold/fever, they'd probably be eligible for some good ol' fashioned blood-letting! Fun! (don't quote me on that one though, I'm reciting from memory).
> 
>  **And lastly we have an important update about the posting schedule!!**  
>  Okay so, along with the angry fit with depression, there's one other hindrance in my life right now - and funny enough it's not school.
> 
> I'm moving. 
> 
> Not very far away lol. Actually I'm literally 10 minutes away from my old house. But! We're moving this weekend, and I'm going to be packing/settling in for awhile. So I'm nixing the posting schedule until I'm settled in.
> 
> _What does this mean?_
> 
> This means that I'm just going to free-write and post when things get done, as they get done, when I have time to do them. That could mean we have three chapters in one week (holy fuck). That could mean you don't see me for half of forever. I just don't know. And I'm sorry about that! The original plan had been to get a buffer going so you guys wouldn't see any of the mess and uh... I think we all know how that worked out. However! Please don't worry about me abandoning this story - no matter how long I end up breaking from updates. I promise you, from the bottom of my heart, that I am too deep in this shit to turn back now lol.
> 
> Anyway, thanks again for being patient with me. Hopefully this chapter was worth the wait for you! You will all probably literally murder me when the next chapter goes up. Please stay safe until we meet again.


	63. And I Hear the Color Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the point of view switches back to Grillby  
> And a rescue is launched
> 
> * * *
> 
> Important announcement guys! I actually have music for this chapter! We have two songs!
> 
> The first is ["Gaster's Finale" by Amella on Youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGfJYHZCNyU&t=26s), and the start for this song will by signaled by **(*)**  
>  Be aware that the youtube version of the song has some Gaster vocaloid sound effects? But in the video description, the composer has alternative links provided with versions of the song minus the vocaloid portions. They're not very intrusive anyway though, so you should be fine listening with or without. It won't change the experience any!
> 
> The second song is ["Genesis - Orchestral Medly" by Manic Pixel,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mv_cLhYjdnk) and the start of that song will be signaled with **(^)**
> 
> I chose these songs for loop/replay value first, and cinema second, so they should work well with however fast/slow your reading speed is! Or at least, better than some of the previous choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! There is fanart for this week but it's 2am and I'm really heckin' tired. So I will either edit them onto this chapter later or link them with profuse apology on the next. Be sure it will be seen!

Grillby stood at the edge of his wall, watching the far fortress and the ominous gleam of light that pulsated around it, his fingers drumming impatiently against the pommel of his sword. His soul was cold, a stone of apathetic frozen that coalesced in his chest and throbbed with every pulse that rose from the barrier. He supposed the fortress was impressive - impressive to the monsters that waited just behind him, safely tucked away behind a gateway of fire. Guarded by the heat and the haze and a little trickery from Thetis’ magic. Grillby’s unit had murmured with fear and nervousness when they had broken through the wall and saw the massive gates, the lumbering spires, and the number of humans constantly coming and going from the fortress in the valley.

Honestly? Grillby would’ve been much more impressed if the complex were made of stone. As it stood now, he was sure he could take it himself. The fortress was _perfect_ for him. When he looked at it, all he saw was tinder and tar. Fuel. _Fire._ A spark waiting to happen. Another piece of the world waiting to be devoured. They might as well be asking him, _him personally_ to come and tear it apart, to set his sparks across every beam and scrap of canvas. It was an open invitation. A challenge. Grillby was more than ready to accept it.

Granted, that was easy for him to feel when he was _here_ , just steps away from the largest wall of flame the world had ever seen, where his very essence and life force arced and danced just as boundlessly as it destroyed. He felt powerful here, and strangely infinite. More than that, even. He felt chaotic. He felt _perfect_.

That would change as soon as he was far enough away from the wall. That would change when he was on the humans’ terms instead of his own.

 _Gods_ it was infuriating. He wished _so badly_ that the fortress itself was sitting in the middle of the forest. He was frustrated beyond thought that the woods had been cleared for such a distance around it so it could be made. If he only had something to _burn_ , he could wash the whole thing away _right now_. Instead all there was around the place was open ground and tall grass, brittle and mostly dead from frost and snow. The fire might be able to burn its way across to the towering structure, but it wouldn’t be nearly as consuming as it would need to be to just wipe the place off the map. That was probably for the best. A wall of flame like that would be impossible to control. Grillby would probably kill every monster the humans were holding captive.

Just passing through the wall Grillby had already made had been exhausting enough. Looking up at it for the first time had been awesome and terrifying, and doubly so when the ghost, Ker, had told him they had to go through it to find Gaster. The monsters following Grillby had almost turned and given up then. _Grillby himself_ had balked at it. He thought for sure he’d step inside the impossibly high wall of flame as it clawed at the sky and be lost completely to it, like a small stone might be pulled and tossed and crushed by a rockslide. But instead he’d reached and stretched with his magic, whispering and then speaking and finally _ordering_ , and the waves of flame parted for him to pass through. Parted for his monsters to pass through as well, though it was an effort to keep a safe haven for them as they walked.

The walk itself had been nearly maddening. Grillby hadn’t expected the blaze to have a _presence_. He’d expected it to be dumb and listless, like some gigantic campfire. What he was met with instead was something wretched and screaming, a flame that wailed and resisted and tore relentlessly at everything it touched. And he wasn’t the only one that heard it. The monsters around him could hear it too, the screams in the fire. The _anguish_. Though Grillby supposed he should’ve expected this. He’d screamed until his throat was broken when he made it, and every breath of the agonized smoke he breathed in awakened an ache in his throat like the persistent bruising of a scarred-over wound. He welcomed it though, swallowed hard past the sting and let it add to the feeling of ice and steel in his chest.

 _He was going to get Gaster back or die trying_ , and he scowled at the imposing structure that hoped to keep that from happening.

“Still brooding, hero?”

Grillby didn’t bother looking over as Thetis approached to stand beside him, “You should just let me go.”

“Aye sure,” Thetis hummed, feigning pleasantry, “Except last time I checked, you had trouble taking on _one_ mage by your lonesome.”

Grillby flickered a scowl.

“And if Ker is right, there could be _five_ in there. I don’t fancy your odds,” Thetis offered him a vicious sort of smile, “Though I _do_ hear some humans find that chivalrous suicide shtick _romantic_.”

“Don’t,” the elemental groaned, hissing out a bitter breath of smoke, “I’m following your stupid plan. That doesn’t mean I have to _like_ it.”

“Ha! _Stupid plan,”_ Thetis sneered, though there was humor in her eyes when she did, “I’m one of the best strategists this kingdom has ever seen. You’re _lucky_ to have me along.”

Grillby paused, letting that statement sink in more than Thetis had probably meant for it to, “You’re right. I _am_ lucky to have you - and grateful.”

He shot her a sideways glance, “You didn’t have to come.”

This seemed to derail her a bit. All the humor dropped out of Thetis’ expression, replaced by a tentative sort of bemusement - and then scorn as she tried to shake off the feeling of somber that had settled over them.

“Aye well… don't get all sentimental,” she huffed, ear frills twitching, “You'd just make an ugly pile of dust is all.”

“Of course,” Grillby said with a mild laugh.

“ _Awww_ you’re bonding!” Grillby gave a start at the explosion of shrill laughter right behind his shoulder. He turned to flash Ker a hearty glare, “Isn’t that just _adorable?”_

“How long have you been back?” Grillby demanded with a scowl.

“Relax sparks, I literally _just_ got here,” Ker grinned, before pointedly turning to Thetis - ignoring the angrily sparking elemental, “Looks like they’re digging in to fight the fire off. They’ve started dousing all the walls with water.”

Grillby couldn’t stop a contempt-filled bark of a laugh. Let them _try_ to stop what was coming.

“Did you manage to get a count on the mages?” Thetis asked, tilting her head in the direction of the fortress, as if she could discern all the squirming ant-like shapes for herself from where she stood so far away. They were mostly just crawling blurs to Grillby, especially from this distance.

“I saw one, the girl that’s throwing water everywhere,” Ker reported dutifully, “But I _know_ there’s at least one more. She wasn’t holding the barrier up.”

Thetis flashed Grillby a dubious look, “Think you can handle a pair of mages?”

Grillby’s first reflex was to scream _yes_ and insist they get moving. They were _right here_. They were _so close_. Did it really _matter_ if he could do this or not? He was committed. He was willing to risk his life for this. Though for the sake of the other monsters here… he supposed he should be honest.

Grillby hissed out a long sigh, his bitter scowl lending its color to the flame of the wall behind him, “Depends on if they see me coming.”

He paused and then added, “But you said you could deal with that.”

“I did,” Thetis nodded, “Alright, let’s get this moving then. Ker, get in his armor.”

“You are _so_ going to die, sparks,” Ker laughed, but he did as he was told. Grillby felt a noticeable chill pass through him, uncomfortable and stinging against the heat of his flame. But it was a necessary evil he was going to have to bear. He couldn’t understand the human language, and he had no idea how to tell if a mage was holding up a barrier. Ker did. He’d need the ghost as a guide, if for nothing else.

Then Thetis moved, the air shimmering with her magic as she hummed some song underneath her breath. She paced around Grillby in slow circles, weaving together some magic he couldn’t see. The feel of it as it settled over him was stifling, as if a weight was being pressed down on his shoulders, and it grew with each circle she walked around him. It pressed and prodded, set an uncomfortable color of green sparking through him. But eventually it was done, and like smoke the feeling of the closeness of the spell vanished.

Grillby looked down at himself - he didn’t _see_ anything different. But it wasn’t _his_ sight that needed twisting.

“Did it work?” Grillby asked, watching Thetis carefully as the monster stepped back to examine her work. She smirked.

“Aye sure did, fair enough anyway,” she hummed smugly, obviously impressed with herself, “You make a fine looking human.”

A feeling of gross and bitter contempt curled its way through his soul and it took an effort to swallow it down. Just the _thought_ made him want to tear the illusion off like a second skin.

“Alright,” Thetis snapped, her voice lilting into something sterner, “Stick with the plan. Take the barrier down and look for Gaster after. Once it’s gone, the rest of us will make sure you’ve got an escape route. And be _fast_ for the gods’ sakes! Even if you catch ‘em off guard the humans will give you trouble.”

Grillby nodded.

“And for the illusion,” Thetis continued warningly, “It’s a mighty fragile thing once I’m not here beside you. Keep your heat low and don’t draw attention to yourself. Any killing intent and it’ll break apart like dandelion fluff. Know _for sure_ you’ve got the right mage before you go setting things on fire.”

“ _Alright_ ,” Grillby snapped impatiently. He could feel his restlessness crawling against his core like an itch and it was getting unbearable. He needed to go. _Let him go_.

Thetis sighed at him, ear frills pulling down as she frowned, soft and worried, “Don’t do anything rash lad. You’re our only way out of this. Your Ruke can’t freeze off this firestorm of yours.”

Yes, he knew that, and honestly Grillby could care less about all this nonsense she was telling him now. They were wasting time just standing here talking. Time that Gaster could be found - time he could be _safe_. He tried not to outwardly fidget the longer she kept him there, and when she finally dismissed him, he had to make an effort not to break into a run. To go sprinting away straight up to the fortress doors. He wasn’t allowed to do that. He needed _tact_. He needed to stick to Thetis’s plan. It was his best chance of getting through the next few hours alive - even if it was a maddening process to follow.

Which also meant bearing through Ker and his annoying taunts as they walked. The ghost directed him, snapping orders that Grillby was supposed to follow unquestioningly.

“Alright hothead, you’re gonna follow the wall here until it gets close to the main road.”

“Wait _wait until those humans pass_. You’ll let ‘em know something’s up if you just walk out of the fire, dumbass.”

“For the love of _god_ would you _pretend_ you know what you’re doing?”

And of course, every time Grillby tried to talk, Ker shushed him. Because it would look _so strange_ to see someone babbling to himself with two completely different sounding voices. So fine. Grillby scowled and walked, toting around his little parasite and listening as he whispered criticisms whenever Grillby stepped the wrong way. The closer they got to the fortress walls, the quieter Ker got. The more restless Grillby felt, and the more _worried_ , because it was… a lot more imposing now that he was standing in the massive structure’s shadow. It was all wood and rope and tar, thrown together from the massive stretch of trees that used to huddle in the valley. And the barrier… Grillby shuddered when he passed through it, watched the light warp and tug against his soul as if it _knew_ he wasn’t what he was pretending to be.

But no humans pointed and screamed when he walked in so… obviously Thetis’s illusion was still holding.

Humans. They were humans _everywhere_. Which Grillby expected, but it was still _nerve-wracking_ just standing amongst them, and strange to see them when they weren’t waving weapons in his direction. Most of them were scrambling around, trying to prepare for the coming fire. Water was being thrown across anything of value, and in the cold air much of it threatened to freeze into ice before it could soak properly into the wood. It would be a problem to light, but once lit it would still burn. That was... good. Oh… _gods_.

For the first time since going on this harebrained adventure, Grillby was starting to doubt whether he could… actually… do this. There were humans _everywhere_. Gods, they probably outnumbered his own monsters two to one, maybe _more_ than that, and among them were probably mages. The place was huge and sprawling, _towering_ and confusing. There were tents everywhere. How long would it take to even _find_ Gaster? Where would they even begin to look?

Grillby already missed the comfort of that blazing wall that now seemed terribly far away.

“Okay sparks, find a corner,” Ker whispered - a sound that seemed to echo from every nook and cranny of Grillby’s armor, tinny and resonant, “Preferably one with nobody standing in it.”

Feeling very much like a candle flickering in the shadow of some giant, Grillby complied. He managed to find a space near the outside wall, hiding behind a pair of tents that in the rush of the day had been abandoned. His whole body shuddered when Ker disentangled himself from his armor.

“I did _not_ miss this place,” Ker scowled, looking at the world around him, his voice sounding the oddest mix of excited and bitter, “I was trapped here for _months_. Can you _even_ believe it?”

“Shouldn’t you fly a little lower?” Grillby asked, cringing further back into his corner, “Before someone sounds an alarm?”

“ _Relax_ hothead,” Ker’s face split into a grin, “Humans aren’t like monsters. Most of them can’t even _see_ me.”

Without warning, the ghost suddenly went swooping away, laughing at the obvious panic on Grillby’s face as he wove in and out between a group of humans walking by. He even passed through one of them, eliciting a shiver, but no real recognition. Ker darted back over to Grillby, laughing.

“ _Wow_ you’re an excitable one. What, didn’t believe me?” he teased, voice ecstatic, “Mostly only mages can see us, and a few other _weird_ humans. I can count on a hand how many times I’ve _actually_ been spotted. It’s great, being almost completely ignored by literally half the creatures on the planet.”

Ker gave a tense sort of sigh, as if the whole thing was frustrating to him. All Grillby could manage was a scowl in return.

“Okay, so here’s how this works, sparks,” Ker snapped, seeming to _suddenly_ remember why they were here, “You stay here in your little corner and wait for me to get back. We’ll find your stupid mage and tear this barrier down, and _then_ we’ll go find your boyfriend - heh, if he’s even _alive_.”

“Wait,” Grillby frowned, “How do you know which human has the barrier?”

“Oh no, I’m not telling _you_ that!” Ker piped, his tone mocking and severe, “Because _you’re_ not wandering off by yourself while I’m looking. I am _not_ going to risk getting stuck in here _again_. Stay here, _don’t move_ , and if anyone talks to you - uh - play dead or something.”

Without another word, Ker flew off. He left Grillby standing in the corner. Alone. Feeling very much like somebody’s misplaced child. Stand and wait? _Seriously?_ That was what this plan amounted to? This was _so frustrating_. For a few seconds Grillby thought he might start seeing red he was so angry, scowling out smoke and sparks, until the pressure of Thetis’ magic wrapped itself around his shoulders like a cloak and Grillby’s soul nearly froze in shock when he felt it. Right. _Right_. The illusion. If he broke it, this whole thing was done.

It was a force of will to breathe deeply. To will himself to calm down. To pretend to be normal for a few seconds, and not like the twitchy, impatient, exasperated pile of idiot that he was. Gods but what did he _do?_ Ker didn’t honestly expect him to stand here and wait for the possible _hours_ it would take to find the right person, did he? And could Grillby actually hide here in a corner all day, when there were so many people running in circles preparing? How long until someone spotted him and started yelling orders, only to find out Grillby had no idea what they were saying - only to find out what he _was._

Right. Calm. Don’t panic. Don’t get angry. Just. Stay. _Calm_.

Grillby contented himself with looking around and… doing his best to plan what would happen next. He could see a stockade off on the far side of the camp. That was probably where they’d be holding monsters. That was the first place Grillby should go after they killed the barrier mage. The tents scattered around here were plenty flammable. No amount of water would change that - and most of them were likely waterproofed, which meant they were treated with oil. _Perfect_ for burning. He could create confusion with that he supposed. Wherever this second mage was, they’d be lost trying to find him in a mess of flaming tents. And then their captives would be loose. It would be chaos - more so than it already was.

Hopefully chaotic enough that they wouldn’t know they were being attacked until it was almost over. And with Thetis and the rest of the monsters charging in… they should be able to pull this off with minimal casualties.

Gaster. Grillby would finally have him back. Some piece of his life before everything went to hell would be _back_. His friend. His confidant. What was left of his world. The last piece of light and hope in this _mess_.

Gaster. He had to find Gaster.

Grillby didn’t know how long he stood there, watching, quiet, cast in the unnatural light of the barrier overhead. The soft rain of ashfall from the fire across the valley coated his armor in a fine layer of clinging, feathery powder. Every once in a while he saw a flash against the far wall over the sea of tents, a sputter of magic, that second mage dousing everything in a layer of water. After a while this stopped, and aside from the bustling to and fro of a few groups of human soldiers running errands, the camp was still. Tense and anticipating. Digging in and waiting for a storm.

And then a mage went running past, striding with a purpose, a child at her heel. A child equipped with a staff much like her own. A nervous pang wormed its way through Grillby’s chest when he saw them. It was… strange watching them, knowing he couldn’t confront them yet. Strange seeing them do anything besides making spells and pointing their staffs at a mess of soldiers - though he _did_ notice one of their staffs was lit and pulsing. Perhaps with some spell? But there wasn’t any magic being thrown around right now - not that he could see.

Grillby watched as the older mage stopped and knelt down to the kid’s level, telling them something probably. Grillby might be curious if he thought he could understand a word of what they were saying. She directed them into a nearby tent, pausing long enough to fuss over them for a few more minutes before striding off with a purpose towards the front gates. That flashing started up again a few minutes later, this time close enough that Grillby could feel the ripple of magic each time. She must be the troublesome mage casting water on the walls. There was something familiar about her - Grillby couldn’t _quite_ place it.

From where he stood, Grillby could just barely see the child sheltered under the tent nearby, their face illuminated every once in a while when their staff pulsed. Or maybe… that was from the barrier? Honestly he couldn’t really tell. Both staff and barrier seemed to pulse at the same time without fail and it was a bit disorientating to watch. It was still kind of lost on him what spell the child must be making. Grillby had only seen mages’ staffs light up when they were using some sort of magic and -

And Grillby was an idiot. Realization dawned on him brighter than the barrier could flash, and he gave a flustered spark. The child was holding up the barrier. They _had_ to be. Nothing else made sense! Their staff was pulsing in time with it, the exact same color white as the persistent light cast overhead. The older mage was keeping them close by, probably protectively. _This was the mage they were looking for_. R… right?

But he had to be sure. Grillby _had_ to be sure. There was no coming back from this as soon as Thetis’ illusion was broken. People would _see him_. He’d have to _move_. Once the momentum from this started there was no going back. He couldn’t mess this up. He wouldn’t just kill himself if he screwed this up. That realization crashed in harsh and severe, like a kick in the chest. What if he was wrong? What if this kid was just _convenient?_ That other mage would be coming for him in a heartbeat, and he still had no idea where Gaster was. He’d be stuck in the barrier. Any monsters he managed to free would be stuck with him, and his unit back by the forest would have no escape.

Oh _gods_ but Grillby _was so sure_. There couldn’t be anything else, could there? Ker had said there were only two mages in here - well, he’d _guessed_ there were only two mages, but - this could be it! Or… or this _wasn’t_ right and that was why Ker hadn’t come back yet. What if the ghost _had_ passed these two mages and knew they weren’t the right ones?

Grillby huffed out a frustrated, growling sigh. _Gods_ he felt so stupid! He wished he knew more! He wished people would bother telling him things so he could actually act for himself without some escort or babysitter holding his hand and walking him through _every single decision_ he made. And he felt nervous and lost, but most of all he felt... _sure_. Sure that _this human_ was the one they were looking for. So sure he didn’t stop himself when on some impulse he started walking. He watched the second mage, the one dousing the front gates with water. Her back was turned and she was a decent sprint away. If Grillby was _fast_ , he could pull this off before he was noticed.

**(*)**

Then he was slipping into the tent where the child was hiding, and he didn’t have time to worry anymore. He was there, towering over them, bitter intent and determination wrapping itself around his soul just as surely as his hand slipped around the hilt of his sword. At the sound of the weapon drawing free from its sheath, the child turned to face him. Their face lit up for a moment, and Grillby could recognize the pleasant tone of a greeting even if he couldn’t understand what exactly was being said. A writhing, gross feeling came crawling to life in Grillby’s soul. It snaked out from his chest, wriggling around in his gut, threatening to freeze him where he stood.

By the next flash of their staff though, the full gravity of what was going to happen wrenched the child’s expression into something cringing and fearful. As Thetis’ illusion broke, suddenly their light wasn’t the only one cast about the tent. They were awash in the warm hues of Grillby’s firelight. Grillby sighed out a tense breath, smoke-filled and suddenly nervous. With a last second of hesitant grimness he told himself there was no going back now. It was over in a flash of movement, quick and decisive, and suddenly all the light of the world changed. The flickering pulse of the staff cut off abruptly, and with it so did the blinding, pale light of the barrier. Grillby could hear the earsplitting _crack_ as the sky itself seemed to rip apart.

For a frail second Grillby blinked down at what was left of the child, at the blood on his sword and the shock forever frozen in their expression, and he almost couldn’t believe he’d done this. Then that steel was back in his chest again, a cold weight were his soul should be.

Grillby ran. Every one of his steps let loose a wide scattering of sparks, delicate like fireflies until they landed on the many tents around him. Tinder, just waiting for a spark. The camp exploded into bright light again. _Fire_. Not the pallid, unnatural glow of the barrier. This was alive, and it was _roaring_. It fanned and caught and spread, and humans screamed as their world fell into chaos. Grillby kept his sword ready, but for the first leg of his run he went unhindered. The creatures around him were slow to crawl to life, first shocked by the barrier’s breaking, then panicked as they realized their camp was _burning_. It was several long minutes before people started to realize it was this single monster that had caused this, and even then some humans were loath to approach. Some humans just screamed at him, pointing and repeating some word over and over that Grillby didn’t understand.

Whatever kept them off of him, he guessed, was good enough.

“What the _hell_ did I say?!” came a screaming voice, and Ker was flying beside him, angry and snarling, that smug grin finally ripped off his face, “ _I told you to stay put!”_

“I saw an opportunity and I took it,” Grillby argued back, swinging his sword around to catch a human who was too slow to get out of his way. He sent them sprawling, and a fresh flash of color danced across his blade, “I’m heading for the stockade. Find Gaster.”

There was a second where the ghost seemed ready to argue, but whatever he was going to say he swallowed. With a bitter grumble he flew off in another direction, vanishing amongst the sparks and the smoke.

It was at the stockade doors that Grillby got his first real resistance, a line of three humans meant to stand guard there. They were fierce looking, and one of them had a wicked sort of battle axe in their hands. But they weren’t _mages_. They fell quickly, one to Grillby’s sword and the two remaining to his flame. With a hard shove he managed to pry the stockade doors open, and the monsters inside blinked at him lost and bewildered, like they couldn’t believe he was even there. Grillby scanned the crowd of desperate looking creatures, trying not to look as disappointed as he felt when none of them were who he was looking for.

His throat burned as he shouted over the noise of the flames coming to life around him, “Run for the main gate, anyone that can. _Quickly!_ ”

They didn’t need told twice.

Band of world-weary monsters in tow, Grillby began leading the way back to the main gates, sword and flame working in harmony to keep the now recovering humans back, though they faltered because their forces were split. Some humans scrambled with the fires, now raging far beyond their control, leaping from tent to tent and sometimes to other structures as well, burning persistently past the layers of ice that stiffened the world. A few faced Grillby and his small band of monsters. Others ran, coughing up smoke and ash, too delirious from the heat to bother trying to fight. Still more were engaged with a larger distraction at the entrance of the camp - Grillby’s unit, come charging forward in the wake of the shattered barrier. Even from this distance Grillby could see Thetis’ magic flashing, and the grand spirals of ice as Ruke worked beside her.

Grillby smashed his way through a few humans that tried to cut him off from them, great sword cleaving through armor and crumpling a shield. A few weak bursts of magic from the monsters he’d rescued struggled to help him, but he didn’t really need it. _These weren’t mages_. They couldn’t touch him.

Though a shudder that passed into his armor caught him off guard.

“Alright sparks!” Ker shouted, “Make a hard right at the tent up here.”

Grillby felt his soul leap into his throat, “You found him?”

“No, I found his identical twin,” the ghost spat back sarcastically, “Sometime before we’re all dust, if you _don’t mind.”_

Grillby sheathed his sword and sprinted, shoving his way past one last human and disappearing down a row of tents his flames hadn’t caught up to yet. He didn’t have the presence of mind to worry about the monsters he was leaving behind. He had _one mission_ left now. The only real reason he was here. _Gaster_.

“Down that row!”

Grillby skidded into a turn so fast he nearly fell over, the ground slipping beneath his feet. He managed to catch himself with an outstretched arm and spring forward in the same motion, turning the fall into another shot of momentum. There weren’t many humans here - most of them had been left behind with the fire and the fight at the gate, and the ones still on this side of camp were cowering, too afraid of what was going on to approach the thing that had caused it. It was creepily calm here. Past Grillby’s own breath and footsteps, the world seemed eerily muted.

“That tent there, sparks.”

Grillby slid to a stop in the tent Ker directed him to, a teeming of emotions welling up in his chest. Anticipation, fear, relief, a mess of grief and joy that threatened to choke him and pressed against the back of his eyes like tears.

The inside of the tent was dark. Grillby’s heavy boots scattered books he wasn’t paying enough attention to see strewn about the floor. He nearly tripped and fell on them.

And there in front of him, curled on the ground behind a cage of light -

“Gaster?”

The skeleton flinched at the sound of his name, for an instant looking overwhelmed and frightened. There was a gaping scar on his face, a second to match the first that Grillby had grown used to seeing. Grillby wanted to be angry. His chest burned and his emotions roiled and all he wanted was to be absolutely _furious_ that anyone could hurt _Gaster_ like that. But every bit of that righteous anger melted away when the skeleton spoke.

“Grillby?”

It was quiet and scared, and yet somehow still hopeful and _alive_ and everything Grillby had never thought he’d ever hear again. And Gaster was laughing and crying, struggling to his feet and throwing himself against the cage of light he was trapped behind.

“Oh gods it’s really you!”

For a few seconds all Grillby could do was stare, struggling to even remember something as simple and necessary as breathing.

“ _Move_ dumbass!” Ker barked, “Before the other mage kills your unit!”

“Right!” Grillby breathed, bounding towards Gaster, his magic rippling to life and ready to break apart whatever this spell was.

Gaster was signing frantically in an instant, “No no _no_ _wait don’t!_ Don’t touch it! It’s a barrier!”

“ _What?”_ Grillby asked, stopping outside the foreboding cage of light. Dismay caught in his chest like a gasp, “N-no! No! Whose is it?”

“I’m not - I’m not completely sure,” came Gaster’s stammered answer, and then suddenly he was stammering and panicked, “W-wait! The barrier - the other - - ! _Rowan!_ Are they alright? Did you _see - ?”_

A shadow passed over the tent doorway. Grillby saw it as a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, in Gaster’s twisting expression as he flinched fearfully, a shout of warning on his teeth. Grillby dodged out of the way as ripping, stabbing spires of ice suddenly wrenched themselves out of the ground where he was standing. His boot caught on one of them, and it was a struggle to keep from stumbling and falling gracelessly into a nearby pile of books. Before he could recover enough to drag his sword back out from its sheath, another spell was being cast, and another, ice ripping apart every scattered thing, every piece of earth at Grillby’s feet. It was a wonder that he managed to dodge them all in the confined space.

“Thistle!” Gaster screamed, pressing himself against his prison, “Stop! _Please!”_

The shout was enough to cut off the stream of spells pouring from the mage’s mouth, and Grillby was able to use the precious pause to recover. He managed to drag his sword out into the open, scowling and flickering in rapid, furious colors, his breath a gasp of sparks and smoke. Grillby remembered where he recognized the mage from now, after Gaster had said her name. She was the one from the bridge, the strange ice mage who used monster magic. The woman looked absolutely _ragged_ , covered in ash and grime, her skin only showing beneath tear tracks that ran down her face.

“You can’t beat Grillby, you said so yourself,” Gaster continued pleadingly, though Grillby could tell already that Thistle wasn’t hearing a word of it. She was glaring at Grillby, magic and intent seething at the edge of every breath she took, “Just let me go, _you don’t have to fight!”_

The mage barked a laugh in return - a twisted, emotional sound that growled through her throat brokenly. She answered Gaster’s pleas by launching forward more attacks, spells and monster-like magic mingling together in a fury of suffocating intent. The temperature in the air dropped so quickly it stung at Grillby’s throat when he breathed, clawed like frost against his core when he moved. But he refused to be overwhelmed by it. He met her, his fire and her ice colliding into sparks and steam. His lances splintered her spires into jagged glass and glittering powder, vaporized reaching frost into fizzling steam. His sword crashed through some attacks and parried others. For every ounce of her murderous, desperate magic, he met it with protective fury and resolve. _He couldn’t lose_. Gaster depended on it, and Grillby even more. He wasn’t going to lose Gaster again. He would not let some mage steal everything away from him a second time. _He refused_.

Thistle didn’t stand a chance against him. That became clear with a dizzying quickness. She was _exhausted_ , she _should be_. She had been wasting her magic all morning, while Grillby stayed fresh, cocooned in the embrace of his own element as he set everything alight around him. And something in her was broken. He could taste it in her magic when it grazed him, felt it in every whiff of intent that radiated off of her. She was lost and emotional, and under her desperation was the collapse of someone consumed by grief. Her soul was weakening, and Grillby could feel it.

Step by step, Grillby approached her, negating her attacks, advancing on the ragged mage with a feeling like wicked steel in his soul. A heavy two-handed stroke from his blade cleaved her staff in two with a splinter of wood and a sparking of half-formed magic. There was just enough reach from the sword itself that the tip of the blade bit her when it passed, setting a new and vibrant red against the steel. Thistle gasped, stumbled back and tripped over some of the kicked-aside and scattered books on the ground. She blinked up at him, shock and resignation mingling in her expression, not even bothering to shield herself as Grillby reversed his grip on his sword and prepared to plunge it through her chest.

“ _Grillby stop!”_

**(^)**

With a stutter of startled movement, Grillby managed to stop himself, the tip of the blade pressing softly against the mage’s clothes, keeping her pinned with the threat of its bite but nothing more. Everything stopped as startlingly, as quickly as it began. Suddenly Grillby was exhausted, hovering over his enemy, gasping smoke from the exertion of the fight, a very damning emptiness starting to open itself in his soul from how much magic he’d spent. His hands shook, his body felt jittery and tense and altogether like he should still be moving, the abruptness of his stop too _foreign_. Thistle blinked up at him, some neutral expression collapsing across her features, like she was beyond shock or disbelief. Like she didn’t know why he’d actually stopped before killing her.

“Grillby _please_ ,” Gaster stammered, his voice some tense with conflicting emotion that Grillby couldn’t really decipher, “Sp… spare her.”

“ _What?”_ Grillby spat, not daring to take his eyes off the mage at his feet, “Are you insane?!”

“N-no I’m not! She’s… I don’t want...” Gaster stammered and then sighed. He managed with a bit more firmness in his voice, “She doesn’t deserve this. Please _don’t_ kill her.”

“Don’t listen to a word of that!” Ker screeched then, and Grillby flinched at the sound of it. He’d forgotten the ghost was still in his armor, “Sparing a _mage_ is literally _the dumbest decision_ of your _incredibly short life_ , hothead. Kill her before she kills you!”

“Grillby don’t!”

“Sparks, I don’t care if this guy is the right hand to Asgore himself _you don’t spare a mage!”_

Heaven’s above, Grillby had no idea what to do. Gods… he knew what he _wanted_. He wanted her dead. He agreed with Ker. The only good mage - the only safe one - was a _dead_ one. He should kill her now. _He should just - !_ But Gaster was _begging_ him not to, if not with his voice then with his constantly signing hands, still moving through the movements of _please_ and _don’t_. He looked devastated and torn, like this was the hardest decision he’d ever made in his life, as if just _pleading_ for her hurt him. Grillby had no idea why Gaster wanted him not to but… his friend had never led him astray before. Maybe this was for the best.

For a second Grillby screwed his eyes shut, flame contorting in a grimace, sighing with bitter resignation. He felt the shift inside him before he even made the conscious decision, felt the strange, lightheaded sensation as he bared his soul to Thistle, his guard dropping as he sheathed his sword. He took a hesitant step back, giving her room to stand. Grillby spared her quietly, reluctantly. But he spared her nonetheless.

“You’re such _moron_ ,” Ker snarled so quietly Grillby could hardly feel the whisper in his armor when he spoke.

“Drop the barrier,” Grillby commanded, watching tensely as Thistle stumbled to her feet, clutching an arm across the wound he’d grazed across her stomach earlier. She watched him for a long moment, the broken splinters of her staff in her hands, suspicious and doubtful and confused. She looked past Grillby, glancing over to Gaster for a moment, and then back to the imposing elemental.

She muttered a word.

Something hit Grillby with enough force to stagger him back a step - something _extremely cold,_ and filled with so much malice and harmful intent that it hurt him more than the impact itself _._ And both Gaster and Ker were screaming at once, and while Grillby couldn’t really focus on what Gaster was saying, he could hear with clear certainty that pestering ghost.

“I _knew it!”_ he screamed, wrenching free of Grillby’s armor, “I told you sparks _I told you!_ You just killed your _entire goddamn unit._ Thetis! _Thetis!”_

The ghost disappeared out through the tent ceiling, screaming for Thetis, his voice getting more and more distant as he went.

“That was for Rowan,” Thistle hissed, her voice so low and tired Grillby almost didn’t hear it.

Grillby’s gaze dropped to whatever _thing_ was so cold, and when he saw it he choked. There was a spear, glittering and perfect, the ice of it so pure and clear it could be glass. It was awash in his mortified, painful colors - purples and reds and weak blues all breaking across its surface. He could even see his own warped expression, something incredibly blank and underwhelming. Grillby was sure the spear’s head would look just like the one on his necklace, but he couldn’t see it. It had disappeared through his armor, buried somewhere in the center of his chest.

Grillby dropped to his knees. The jarring impact of it sent an almost paralyzing twinge of pain through him, but it was gone the instant he’d stopped moving. He tried to breathe but the natural motion wasn’t working anymore. He wanted to rip the thing out of his chest, but his arms weren’t responding to him. He felt like he was choking on nothing. No, he was choking on _ice_ , it was just lodged somewhere far deeper than just his throat. His _soul_ was suffocating, gasping and struggling and breaking apart.

Grillby realized… he was dying.

There was another flash from Thistle’s staff, something Grillby only faintly registered. He was too busy watching the spear, and feeling its cold spreading. It was blooming through his chest, spidering out across his back, crawling along his shoulders. It was a shame he was covered in armor. He wanted to see what it was doing to him. Some morbid, half-alive curiosity wanted to see what he looked like when he turned to dust.

Then Gaster was there, his face inches away from Grillby’s, crying and babbling. Hold on wait it’s going to be okay I can fix this I promise I can fix this just st-stay with me _please_ I’m sorry I’m so sorry I --! Honestly Grillby wasn’t paying much attention to it. He was too hazy. Shock was making everything cloudy and strange. Or maybe that was just a symptom of dying.

Gaster’s hands slipped around the spear for an instant, like he might try to pull it out but hesitating, unsure of what to do. Not knowing if it was even worth the effort. Grillby knew it wasn’t. He could feel it in the cold in his chest that was already turning into numb. He could feel it in the crawling sensation as his core put itself out. It had spread to his hands now, the only thing he could actually see. The flame was already out, the core rapidly cooling from the molten oranges to reds, cooling further to whatever that rock-like substance was. Then further, that cooling from blackened core to grey, flaking dust. He was falling apart. He was collapsing.

 _He was dying_.

Grillby reached forward, the entire movement sluggish and shaking, and wrapped whatever was left of himself around Gaster in a hug. It was going to be gross and messy. He was going to get dust everywhere and Gaster was going to end up living through the nightmare that Grillby had when he’d had to wash Amathea’s dust off his clothes. But he didn’t care. He’d wanted this for so long. This was _all_ he wanted now. This was all he had left. This was the last thing Gaster would remember of him.

Grillby saw a flicker of movement, something shifting behind Thistle as the mage watched them. Something like recognition broke through Grillby’s foggy, self-absorbed stupor.

Somehow he managed to whisper, “Hold her still.”

Gaster flinched and screwed his eyes shut, reluctant and bitter - but still he nodded, and in the same motion blue magic wrapped itself around Thistle’s soul. The human gasped at the sudden pull of it, and was unable to move out of the way when a hail of vengeful, screaming magic slammed into her, flickering teal, barbed and hungry. They weren’t spears, or Grillby might be able to convince himself that it was somehow Amathea come to save him, or maybe just to escort him to whatever afterlife monsters had in store.

No, it was Thetis, casting forward wickedly barbed harpoons, tearing into the frozen mage as Gaster held her there. The skeleton didn’t keep her there long. He was too weak to. Too devastated. But for how long he held her there was all Thetis needed.

Grillby was struck by how vibrantly red it all was. It put the color that had splashed its way across his sword to shame. It poured from every wound, stained Thetis’ armor, ruined the books on the floor. Humans were messy. Almost messier than monsters.

Grillby’s vision faded. The last thing he saw was red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait so before you murder me dead I have something really important to--!  
> *gets hit with a brick*


	64. An Unmoving Object

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a stoppable force meets an unmoving object.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rawrf! We have a fanart feature this week! :D And they're so full of FEELINGS
> 
> First up is [procrastinatingbookworm with a really cool silhouette drawing of everything slowly going to shit last chapter ahaha :'D ](http://procrastinatingbookworm.tumblr.com/post/157376915227/casting-rain-chapter-63-theblogofcastingrain)
> 
> Immediately followed by [Loumun-Versen with a very beautiful (and painful) drawing of the hug of death that follows after.](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/UT-The-cost-of-a-life-663157432)
> 
> You guys literally brought one of my favorite scenes to life while I was gone ahhhhhh man. I'm overwhelmed. And fairly distraught ahaha.

Grillby was dead. The elemental was nothing but dust and armor now, scattered across Gaster’s clothes and tumbling to the ground. He might as well have never existed. Thistle might be satisfied with this if she weren’t going to die with him.

Thetis left her bleeding and broken, torn apart by barbed magic. It hurt, but only until the haze and dizziness set in. Then she might as well be floating, drifting in some cold water only she could feel. She couldn’t move. She was breathing but she got the strangest feeling she wasn’t.

The two monsters were arguing now. Thetis was shouting, urging Gaster to move but the skeleton wouldn’t. _Couldn’t_. He was panicking, shaking, and muttering excuses and apologies under his breath as if it could actually change anything. The two of them were a mess of words and blurring colors, dissonant noise mingling with shouts in the distance of battling humans and monsters. Though all of the noise was turning foggy now, like Thistle was trying to listen to it while being held underwater.

* * *

This wasn’t supposed to hap p pp e n . . . .

                        S he   wasn’tt t ss s s u p po sed  t o  d i e .

 

S h e  dd didn’t t t tt t     _w  a  n  t    to **die**._

 

    S    h   e                                            w a s    t h e                     _h    e   r   o_

 

There  was a  c h i l d   t . . t hat   n e e d e d… **_aveng i  n   g    .     .      ._**

  * \-                 -



     a

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                    d   

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                        t

                              h

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                   needed f _f **f**   f   _ f _i **g** h _ t **i n** g _g **g     g              g**_

  S h e  w a s     a  n   g    r     y    t ha t   s he had     l ll l  l   o  s    t

                                                  S  h e      h a d  l o s t   

                                                                                        e -  --

                                                                                                   -

                                                                                                     -  e v e  r    y

                                                                                                                          t   h   i  n  g

B e ca u s e  of  t h e s e    m mmm m

                                                            m o  n   s    t     e      r       s    -    - --  -  -

 How d d   _dd a r e_   t h e y  ?    _?      ?_

                   -                   .                                   `                              s h e   w a s    a  n g ry

                                              s h e   w  a  s     a _aa **a fr a i d**_

**s h e  w a  s    d  d    d  e      t --`’,,.e\|` ; .`r`, m- \,.”`.           .               `     .**

The  l

l l              l                        l        a    s t            t h       i             n                g

      t h e           l      a s  t

                                  t h i n g

The

          last

                   thing

                              she

                                      saw

                                                        w a s

                                                                                G  a  s  t  e  r

 He  w a s    w  a  t  c  h  i  n  g    h e r

                                                                     with

                                                         some

                                                                              **v  i  v  i  d**

                                                                                                  /horrified/ //   /  ~ _hopeful~_

                           

                                                                   expression       .              . .                .        .   .

           S h e

                         h  a  t  e  d  dd  d              _t    h    i     s     t h e **m  o  s  t**_   

W ha t

            d i d    

                       h e

                                    _p    o    s    s    i    b    l     y_      _h a v e             left_

   t  tt t t   t o

                                ** _hope_**

 ** _for -_** _**-** \-- …  ? _?                   ?

            S h e

                         h a t ed

                                                                     i t                   s o     _m u c h_

_S h e     w a s **d  e  t  e  r  m  i  n  e  d**            t o_

w i p e  that   ** _hopeful_  l o o k --`, . **

               

 

o f f

            his - - -------

                                    ----    --         ‘ - , …

… f _f              f      a   - **\- -**_

 

* * *

**_\-  -     -   -  -- -  T   h   e   r_** _e    w  a  s    a   g a p i n g  s c_ a r  o n  h i s  f a c e ,  a second to match the first that Grillby had grown used to seeing. Grillby wanted to be angry. His chest burned and his emotions roiled and all he wanted was to be absolutely… he… _woah_. Oh... gods he felt _terrible_. For a second he swayed on his feet, staggering a step to steady himself, almost unable to keep his balance. He was hit by a wave of lightheadedness and nausea all at once, and the phantom, ghosting feeling of pins and needles crawling against his core. His chest hurt when he breathed, not the ache of lost magic but of something cold and _painful_ and… he’d… had the most… vivid… what… what even _was_ that?

“Grillby?”

Gaster was standing, pressed up against the cage of his prison. His voice sounded ragged and broken, hardly even a whisper, and he was crying already. He was exhausted and scared, and yet somehow still hopeful. Not just hopeful. He was _overjoyed_. Gaster was laughing and crying at the same time, almost to the point of hysterics, his whole body shaking with every breath.

“ _You’re alive!_ ”

For a few seconds all Grillby could do was stare, struggling to even remember something as simple and necessary as breathing. Struggling past the feeling of cold in his chest that was just now beginning to dissipate.

So that… _all that_ … had been real.

“I’m... alive,” Grillby restated dumbly, not really sure he believed it himself. Not really sure what he’d seen, what he’d _felt_ , had actually happened.

“What... just happened?” Ker asked, every ounce of his confusion resonating through Grillby’s armor.

“I don’t know,” Grillby said slowly. But he… he _did_ know, didn’t he? He knew because of Gaster.

“She can’t die,” Gaster said quietly, his voice hushed, but still hitching and shivering with his hysterics. The laughter was gone now. Everything about him had turned to tears and horror, and his shaking was getting worse.

“ _Grillby she can’t die!”_ Gaster shrieked, cringing back away into the furthest corner of the barrier he was trapped in. He was breaking down into the most panicked Grillby had ever seen a monster become, and it _terrified him_ , “She’s going t-to k-k-kill you again you’re going t-to - !”

A shadow passed over the tent doorway. Grillby saw it as a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, in Gaster’s twisting expression as he flinched and _screamed_. Grillby dodged out of the way as ripping, stabbing spires of ice suddenly wrenched themselves out of the ground where he was standing. Grillby ripped his sword free from its sheath as he moved. His boot grazed just barely past one of the spires of ice at his feet, and he managed to catch himself before he could stumble and fall over the books scattered across the floor.

All pretenses were gone. Gaster didn’t bother pleading for Thistle to stop, too wrapped up in his fear and hysterics. Grillby felt Ker leave his armor and go screaming for Thetis before the fight could even begin. The elemental and the mage locked their gazes across the space of the tent, magic crackling to life. Grillby felt that emotion like cold steel return to his chest. He was    ** _d e t e r m i n e d_** to kill her. He refused to do any differently. He settled that in his soul _now_.

Thistle didn’t bother barking a spell. Suddenly the air was ripped apart by ice magic, that monster-like magic that was so jarringly unnatural. As unnatural as whatever spell she’d cast to push them back to the start of their battle. Or maybe it wasn’t a spell. Maybe it was just her _nature_ , something she could somehow manage to do.

To Grillby, it didn’t matter. He would kill this mage a thousand times if he had to. She wasn’t going to win. He refused to let her.

So Grillby fought with every ounce of ferocity he could muster. His flame chewed apart her ice. Their ravenous magic threatened to collapse the tent on top of them. It ripped through books, scattered papers. It _burned_ and it froze. Until Grillby was leaping forward in the opening he was patiently waiting for and shoving his sword _through  T h i s t l e ’ s  ch **e  s   t    -**_ _ **\- -**_

* * *

**_\-  -     -   -  -- -  T   h   e   r_** _e    w  a  s    a   s t u t t e r  i n_   t i m e  a n d  Grillby was back again, staring at the barrier Gaster was trapped behind, at the skeleton who was on his knees on the ground and already crying. Grillby didn’t wait for Thistle’s shadow to appear in the tent’s opening. He drew his sword and turned to face the threat he knew was coming. Ker murmured something about hell spawn mage magic and flew out through the top of the tent again, bent on getting Thetis before something else went wrong.

“You can’t beat her,” Gaster sobbed quietly.

“She only won last time because I spared her,” Grillby snarled resolutely, grim steel and resentment heavy in his soul, “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

Gaster had no reply to this.

Thistle reappeared in the tent doorway, looking somewhat shaken. Like she was still getting used to what was happening. Or maybe like she hadn’t expected to die twice. As their magic swung into motion again, Grillby could taste her rising hatred for him like miasma in the air. _Good_. Let her hate him. It made his job _that much easier_. It was so _terrifyingly easy_ to kill something that wanted to kill you back.

This time she managed to graze him. He was sloppy, he moved when he shouldn’t have - or maybe she just knew when to wait for him. He was unable to guard himself as her ice ripped through his armor, grinding through the links like they were made of paper, shattering the wards attached to it with a flurry of sparks and rending magic. And the attack _hurt_. It dashed away a chunk of his hp that he wasn’t expecting. It was just a graze to his shoulder but it hurt his soul like he’d been run through the stomach. _Gods_ how much intent did she have? How bent was she on killing him? Grillby shook his head, bracing himself against the pain as he raised more attacks. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to lose.

He killed her again, this time with a well-timed lance of fire, and the world shifted and warped as she was burned. It took several agonizing seconds for the reset to finally send him back, setting him down gently in front of Gaster, surrounded by untouched books. Grillby drew his sword and turned to face the open tent doorway. Thistle met him with a grim and determined scowl.

Grillby lost track of how many times he killed Thistle, and how many different ways. All he knew was he was getting _desperate_ for her to stop. Gods. Just. _Stop_. This had to be _painful_. Surely she was getting tired of _dying_. She’d been burned, stabbed, she’d lost limbs. He’d taken her hp away slowly, meticulously, one attack at a time. Or he’d rendered her gone in a matter of seconds with a sweeping blow from his sword. Once they even fought long enough for Thetis to make her way over and join the scuffle. The mage had stood no chance then, and in all the resets after she was more reckless and hurried.

She wasn’t the only one who hurt. Her magic bit Grillby on more than one occasion. He’d broken his sword once. Nearly lost an arm another time. He’d choked on the creeping frost she summoned, felt the piercing cold as he was stabbed or run through hundreds of times. Once she’d nearly killed him, though he’d never admit it. She had managed to bite and claw him down to an exhausted red flame, flickering weakly, before he’d landed the stroke that had finally killed her.

Gaster had been sobbing waiting for that reset, watching Grillby as he doubled over, leaning on his sword, exhausted, watching that vibrant red pour from Thistle’s body and soul. And then in a blink they were back again. Grillby was wearily drawing his sword to face the coming determined _nightmare_ that Thistle had become.

Grillby was exhausted. Oh _gods_ he was exhausted but not in body. No. Every time she reset he revived as well. Every stat fell back into place as it was supposed to. Every ache and pain eased, though sometimes phantom feelings of them were left behind. It was like a breath of fresh air, jarring and pleasant to suddenly go from exhausted and wounded, sometimes even _dying_ , to feeling startlingly whole again.

But his mind, his _soul_ was tired. In his mind he’d been fighting for hours, and he felt the wearying exhaustion of someone who had. And he was tired of watching her die. He felt bitter and resentful. He felt _cruel_. But what else could he do? He had nowhere to run! Running would mean leaving Gaster behind - leaving Gaster for her to torture or kill however she saw fit. And he refused to leave Gaster. Not again. _Never again_. Gods… he would rather die. He would rather fight this losing battle until she finally won, and he _died_. Or maybe he already had. Maybe the first time she’d killed him had been the only time, and the rest of this was hell. He felt equal parts enraged and distraught, like screaming and falling apart in tears.

 _Desperate_. That’s what this feeling was. Desperate with a growing sense of helplessness. It didn’t matter if he was winning. It didn’t matter that he was killing her over and over again. She would always come back. He was completely and utterly at her mercy, at the mercy of her determination and her decision when to end. He could only stop when she did - or until he finally lost. That thought alone made everything he was doing now seem futile, a purgatory until his eventual demise. Slowly, he was starting to understand Gaster’s panic.

_Thistle. Couldn’t. Lose._

Another reset came and went, and for once Grillby didn’t preemptively draw his sword. He stood and swayed on his feet, sighing out a breath of exhausted smoke, his flame flickering low. Gods… he couldn’t keep this up.

“Grillby,” Gaster called softly, and Grillby looked down at him with a grim frown. He knew what the skeleton was going to say before he even said it, “Just _run_. It’s not worth it.”

“To hell with that,” Grillby spat dismally, finally drawing his sword, “I’m not leaving here without you.”

“ _Grillby_ ,” his voice sounded so broken and pleading, “I’m not worth getting killed over once, let alone twice. _Please_ just _run_.”

Something very tight and angry clenched itself around Grillby’s soul, something that writhed around in him, vehement and fierce. So much so that Grillby felt his whole body instantly flush into the brightest, brilliant colors of white he had ever managed to become. Not worth it? _Not worth it?_ He wanted to laugh to loudest, most manic and _angry_ laugh he could muster. He wanted to _scream_. He felt like he was going insane. What world was this that he’d stepped into, that the humans didn’t die no matter how many times he killed them, and his best friend urged him to leave him for dead?

Grillby wasn’t given enough time to respond properly. Thistle appeared again, and exasperated and exhausted and _angry_ he faced her, and they fought again. Grillby didn’t flinch. His magic boiled in his chest, thick and viscous in his teeming, weary frustration. Every attack he threw was molten and white, sometimes setting the scattered objects at his feet alight just from the heat of it. Again like every time before he churned up her attacks, splintered every jagged piece of ice into water and steam. She hit him once, one of those bitterly cold lances jabbing through the scales of his armor and lodging itself deep in his gut somewhere. It staggered him, doubled him over the wound as he screamed, and in her hurry to take advantage of his weakness Thistle’s defenses dropped. Grillby steeled himself and lunged, sword leading, just as she lunged for him, and with a spatter of blood that stung him he opened up a gaping wound in her throat.

And then she was dying again, just like every time before. Slowly, _painfully_ , and while she did Grillby snarled in his own quieter agony as he ripped the jagged piece of ice she’d left in him out of his stomach. It _hurt_ , his core frigid and aching somewhere unnaturally deep inside him. It stiffened his movements, made him stagger. But unlike her he didn’t _bleed_ , and while she choked and spasmed and _drowned_ in the stuff she was made of, Grillby leaned on his sword and waited for the world to reset itself again, his arm clutched tight across the wound he knew would soon disappear. Watching her made him feel disgusting, but he couldn’t bring himself to end her misery. She was almost gone anyway.

It was when she was finally stilling that he spoke above her awful, gasping noises, snarling an exhausted; “You will _never_ win.”

Thistle couldn’t speak a word back, but he could tell by the flinch in her body that she’d heard him.

“ _Just give up_.”

The world reset, and Grillby was once again standing in front of Gaster. The skeleton looked distraught in the most abstract sort of way, like all the death and fighting was slowly starting to dull in his senses. Tiredly, Grillby drew his sword, turned wordlessly and waited. Thistle reappeared. They stared each other down.

But she made no move to fight.

No, she looked mortified that she was back again, like she didn’t know why she was doing this anymore. She was determined for a goal she couldn’t accomplish, fighting for an impossibility. Grillby was too resolved to kill her. He was too _strong_. She may have gotten stronger since the last time they fought, but so had he, and there was an immovable bitterness in his soul that came with it. A resignation that made her revenge impossible. And now Thistle’s previous fervor was waning, the power of her impulsiveness and grief giving way to its own form of exhaustion.

Grillby had no idea how long they stood and stared like that, but he was counting down the minutes in his head until he knew - from the practice of Thistle’s countless deaths - when Thetis would join him. He thought perhaps Thistle would stand there until the fish monster came, thinking, _watching_ and waiting for… whatever it was she was waiting for. Until finally she jerked her arm forward and cast a spell. The words were alien, not the same cold spell magic that had threatened to kill him over and over, and there was a flash of light behind him, and the sound of splintering like glass.

Grillby took a step towards her, magic snapping to life. There was for a moment, an insane, reckless thought in his mind that she’d hurt Gaster just to _spite him_. That he’d have to kill her again to bring him back -

\- until the grip of blue magic stopped him. Grillby’s magic dropped out of the air, and he didn’t know if it was shock or relief that ripped his hold away. Gaster stood there holding him back with blue, the barrier nothing more than a discharge of useless magic at his feet. It took longer than it should have for Grillby to realize the skeleton was safe, for his mind to wrap around the idea that the senseless loop of _death_ had finally broken.

And Thistle fled.

Grillby shook his head, trying to shake off the stupor the sudden shift had put him in. He grabbed Gaster’s arm, cutting off the magic that kept him from moving.

“Come on!” Grillby said, new resolution building in his soul. This was it. This was what he’d been waiting for he - they could run. _They could escape!_

Grillby ran, trying to pull Gaster with him, but they only managed to go a few steps before it was obvious the skeleton couldn’t keep up. He was hurt and exhausted, and who knew how long he’d been stuck in that barrier, unable to move more than a few steps in any direction. With all the fighting and the fire up ahead… he honestly wasn’t sure Gaster would make it on his own. With a determined frown, Grillby scooped the skeleton up in his arms and dashed off as fast as he could manage. Gaster was almost feather light to him, and Grillby had to worry if Gaster had always been that way, or if the elemental had gotten stronger - or if Gaster himself had gotten smaller and frailer.

The skeleton clung to Grillby’s shoulders for dear life, desperate not to be dropped, “What are you _doing?”_

“Just trust me!” Grillby called back in between breaths of smoke, “And keep them off me, if you can.”

Gaster nodded, raising a hand and with it his magic, waiting for a human to stumble into their path. Grillby focused on running, on putting one foot in front of the other in such a way that he didn’t fall flat on his face. He hardly noticed it when Thetis and Ker came into view, ignored their shouted questions when he ran past them. His eyes were focused forward at the looming gate and the walls of fire and his brave monsters still fighting there. Pride swelled in his chest as he watched them hold their own. Ruke’s magic especially struggled above the rest, not just warding humans back but Grillby’s own flames as well as they reached and clawed at the gate and threatened to trap the monsters inside with their heat. The escort was a flurry of white, one of his many forelegs spattered with red from where he’d caught the bite of a stray sword.

As Grillby neared, he called their retreat, his throat hoarse and painful in his throat as he yelled above the noise of the class. But they heard him, and with an effort they disentangled themselves from the mess of frantic and fighting humans. Grillby’s fire covered their escape, Gaster’s blue yanked obstacles - human or not - out of their way, and Thetis followed with a hail of her barbed harpoons.

They were out the gates in a number of strides, Ruke leading and shouting encouragement to the monsters as they ran, Thetis already humming an aura of illusion around them. She was too exhausted to conceal them completely, but Grillby could see the air around them warping and jumping, making them harder to pin down with arrows. Grillby felt more than he heard the sharp intake of breath as Gaster gasped, his head craning back to stare at the approaching wall of flame, their escape, their _shelter_ , as strange as that sounded. To Grillby it was nothing short of a relief to see it, to have the embrace of that giant wall wrap him up in its impenetrable safety.

He didn’t expect the horror in Gaster’s voice as he muttered a word, something that rolled strangely past the edge of his teeth, foreign and very _human_ , “Gehenna.”

Grillby’s flame sparked in a question he didn’t have the time to ask. They were already close to it, too close. The heat of the flames was making the monsters around him balk, and even _he_ could feel it. The wall was mightier than the spark that Grillby was, stronger and infinite and his beautiful _chaos_. Its screams and wails still lashed at him as he approached it, the smoke and bitterness put a sting in his throat and his chest. But regardless he felt triumphant as he returned. As the rest of his monsters halted, Grillby strode past them, dropping Gaster off carefully in their midst. He needed his hands free, if only for the _feeling_ of directing the fire around him.

With a flourish and a yell he commanded it to part, and in his sureness it lept to answer. He felt revived as he walked forward and through the parting flames, more alive and powerful and refreshed than every one of Thistle’s damning skips in time. Home. He was going _home_.

And he’d brought Gaster back with him.

Grillby stood patiently by and waited for his monsters to join him through the rift in the flaming wall, scanning the direction they’d come for any sign of opposition. He saw none. No humans. No _Thistle_. Just the burning fortress they’d left behind, and the scrambling ant-like forms that hurriedly tried to salvage it.

There was an impulse growing in Grillby’s soul, the burning desire to go back. To finish the destruction he’d started. Surrounded by the fire of the wall, his confidence searing the sky, he was sure he could. He was _sure_ he could walk back there by himself, amidst the chaos and the scrambling bodies, and reduce every inch of the place to ash. He could wipe it off the face of the earth, like it had never existed. He could drag them all to hell, kicking and screaming.

Then there was a hand on Grillby’s arm, cool against the heat of his flame, fragile and shuddering slightly. Long white skeletal fingers clung to him, pulling him back to reality. Gaster watched him worriedly, tiredly.

They couldn’t leave until Grillby did - he had to keep the fire at bay.

Grillby shot the encampment one last disgusted look before turning to leave, his hand moving to grasp around Gaster’s, gently. There was a swell of emotion in his chest that he had to stamp down. He couldn’t get emotional yet. He wasn’t allowed to celebrate yet. They had a walk ahead of them, a walk through fire that Grillby constantly had to keep in check. Home, true safety, was somewhere ahead.

Ruke rattled off the events of the battle and the monsters they’d lost as they walked. His unit was three short, but he’d gained nearly twenty captured monsters. Ker and Thetis were already arguing, discussing Thetis and whatever dastardly magic she could’ve used to bring so many stutters to their world. Grillby didn’t listen to them. He didn’t care right now honestly. Right now, at this very moment, he felt elated and jittery and invincible, and the cool of Gaster’s fingers pressed against his was the reminder that he’d won. He was bitter and happy, but he didn’t cry. He wasn’t allowed to yet. They had to get through the fire first. Right now he had to have _control_.

Gaster cried enough for the both of them anyway, his tears disappearing to steam shortly after they left his eye sockets. But he clung to Grillby with the fearful fervor of someone terrified he’d disappear when he let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. FORMATTING.
> 
> * * *
> 
> So fun fact:  
> During my first run through of Undertale, it took me literally hours to beat Undyne. Not Undyne the Undying. Just regular, perfect, awesome Undyne.
> 
> Because I couldn't figure out the only option was to run away.


	65. White Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a lot of exposition so the final arc can start
> 
>  
> 
> **Hey guys! There's a really important announcement that I need some input on! So if you would stick around for the Author's Notes at the end of this chapter and give me some feedback, that'd be greatly appreciated!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, long time no see huh? But just because I've been sorta absent that doesn't mean you guys have been! We have a huuuuge fanart feature for today!
> 
> These first few are from Anchestor, the first being [ Grillby during his firestorm back from chapter 48](https://theblogofcastingrain.tumblr.com/post/157667957247/anchestor-theblogofcastingrain-i-was-sick), which looks fantastic! The next up is [this really adorable piece about Grillby seeing snow for the first time after he's summoned?](https://theblogofcastingrain.tumblr.com/post/158639412527/anchestor-what-is-this-what-is-what-the) And lastly! [ This really awesome drawing of Grillby and Gaster cuddling after they're finally together again! The poor babs](https://anchestor.tumblr.com/post/158622681133/i-will-protect-you-from-everything-you-will-ever).
> 
> Next up is Kakurosu from DA, back again with [ some art from last chapter, the triumphant return of our heroes after the fight!](http://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-Chapter-64-666854778)
> 
> Next up is theninjawrites / theninjamouse on tumblr, who drew a couple things for me as well! I'm really weirdly excited to talk to them, since they also have a massive fanfic I recommend ya'll checking out if you like Sans x Reader craziness. Gaster is involved, and it's at a really intense moment right now! :'D
> 
> Anyway!
> 
> [ They doodled up some adorable little things of Gaster and Grillby hanging out](http://theninjawrites.tumblr.com/post/157625033007/i-doodled-a-little-something-for-silverskye13) from the beginning of the story! And also [ this adorable thing for the anniversary of Casting Rain](http://theninjawrites.tumblr.com/post/158318952347/happy-late-anniversary-to-casting-rain-by).
> 
>  **Speaking of which! Stick around for the Author's Notes at the end, since I'm doing something with that**.
> 
> Next up is marguarita33 from tumblr who drew [ this really cool representation of Thistle? ](https://marguarita33.tumblr.com/post/157535494073/just-a-character-of-an-awesome-undertale-fanfic)Aaaaaghffff it's so cool to me when you guys draw Thistle. I gave you like... zero description for her I don't know how you guys do that.  
> And they also drew [ Grillby snuggling with Cris, Cole and Ava, those kids from eons ago when this story was so much nicer](https://marguarita33.tumblr.com/post/157645299893/when-you-go-from-a-war-soldier-to-a-portable).
> 
> Next in line is thebardscipher with [ this really cool doodle of Gaster using his soul magic!](https://thebardscipher.tumblr.com/post/157853764629/needed-to-distract-myself-so-have-a-picture)
> 
> And last but certainly not least is missccp from tumblr with a couple of writings, to help celebrate Casting Rain's birthday! 
> 
> You can find [ part one here](https://missccp.tumblr.com/post/158349653142/he-lived-on-part-12)
> 
> And you can find [part two here](https://missccp.tumblr.com/post/158350565722/he-lived-on-part-22)
> 
> Aaaaand I think that's everyone!  
> Once again, if you guys think I missed you or haven't seen your thing yet, please _please_ don't hesitate to find me and yell at me or throw a link my direction! I promise I won't bite!

** Chapter 65 **

It was a few days’ walk through the fire, and during the journey Grillby and Gaster didn’t speak to each other - though not for lack of wanting. Thetis stopped them both before they could ever get started, pointing out calmly to Gaster that Grillby was the only reason they were alive, stuck in the wall of fire. They couldn’t afford to let his concentration slip. He wasn’t allowed to get emotional. Gaster had nodded his understanding, tired and disappointed, but seeing the sense in it. Grillby had just been frustrated. It was exasperating to have his friend - the monster he had been pining for, broken-hearted nearly to the point of falling, someone he’d believed was _dead_ \- so close by and not be able to speak to him for more than a few short sentences at time. Though just that small bit of frustration had been enough to prove Thetis was right. Every flame around them shifted and spasmed in Grillby’s bitter yellows and whites, and the heat warped a little closer to the gathered monsters, causing cries of alarm to strike up among their ranks. 

With an angry sigh of smoke, Grillby stormed to the front of the company of monsters and lead the way home while Thetis walked with Gaster and the other wounded near the back. She left Ker with Grillby as a navigator, and it was with barely contained annoyance that the elemental walked with the ghost. Right, he just needed to get them out of here. It was almost over. Once they were home, Grillby would never let Gaster leave his side again. He just had to bear this a few more days.

It was slow going with the wounded they had, and all the more tedious having to stop for them and the other soldiers to rest. Invincible as Grillby felt in the wall of flame, he could have walked without stopping for ages. When they did stop the elemental simply stayed off to the side of the camp and paced and waited and tried not to let the bitter taste of the magical wall of flame around him twist his spirit. 

The wall was… _strange_ to the elemental. He felt equal parts in control and taken over by it, both a piece of it and a separate entity. It made sense - at one point in time, this fire had been his. But it was from a version of himself that had been stricken by shock and grief and loss, while now all he wanted was to be happy, _ecstatic_. His soul, while still weaker than it once had been, wasn’t nearly so cracked apart and broken as it had been the day he made this wall. Now it felt like every bitter emotion behind the wall was pushing inwards on him, like a cage getting ever smaller. It lept away when he pushed back, but it was tiring on his soul, mentally exhausting trying to be vigilant and keep the pressing fire in check. If his mind wandered for too long the flames started creeping in on him again, chipping away at his accomplishment, forcing a foggy apathy into his head and an empty nausea in his chest. It filled his mouth with the taste of despair and it reached to burn the monsters that followed him.

It was bitter and malicious. It burned everything mindlessly. It wanted to devour, to spread. And Grillby wanted that too when they’d walked through the first time. With his intent it ran with him, focused on his goal of finding Gaster, of destroying _everything_ if he had to. In some ways he _still_ wanted that, the mindless destruction, a one-monster holocaust. But he only wanted it for the humans they’d left behind.

Meanwhile the wall was indiscriminate.

What had once been an invigorating, driving force was now just a fight to keep at bay, and while Grillby’s body felt strong wrapped up inside the infinite flame, his soul that commanded his magic felt nothing short of weary.

Grillby was relieved when they finally stumbled out on the monster-side of the wall and he could finally let his hold on the devouring magic slip free. The effect it had on the elemental was almost instantaneous. As soon as he was outside of the wall, exhaustion knocked him off his feet. He blacked out completely, waking up a few seconds later to Thetis and Gaster standing over him and the pestering feeling of the snow he was laying in prickling against his core. It never occurred to him that he’d been using his magic the _entire time_ they were walking, or that the overpowering feeling of the wall was masking just how much magic he’d lost. Outside the wall his flame was dim and low in tired reds, his core felt like jelly, like he’d fall apart into a useless puddle of fire any minute.

They made camp there for the night. Grillby was asleep before nightfall could cast itself over them completely. When he woke up the next morning, Gaster was curled up against him, wide awake and staring off into the distance. 

Ahead of them was a plane of desolation, what was left of the world after the wall had come scorching through. It was covered over neatly with a blanket of snow that must have fallen while they were still walking through the fire. The morning sun reflected off of the pristine surface almost blindingly, so much so that for a few minutes all Grillby could really make out was _white_. It wasn’t until his eyes adjusted that he could see the tree line that hedged in the horizon, grey and bare in the distance.

Grillby sighed and managed a flicker of a smirk, “Good morning.”

Gaster didn’t answer. He didn’t even blink.

“Gaster?”

It was now Grillby noticed that the skeleton wasn’t just _staring_. Gaster looked completely blank and hollow. Even the lights of his eyes were out. The only movement the skeleton made came from his twitching fingers that clutched at his forearms, and it wasn’t until Grillby heard an angry scrape that he realized Gaster’s fingers weren’t just holding his forearms but _digging_. He was scratching deepening grooves into the delicate bone in painful chips that made Grillby nauseous with horror.

Grillby flickered a mortified spark, “What are you - ?! _Stop that!”_

He reached forward to grab Gaster’s hands away, and as soon as his fingers brushed against Gaster’s, the skeleton jerked away from him. He fell back into the snow soundlessly, his every movement screaming panic even if Gaster himself didn’t utter a sound. For a few seconds his entire body was tense as a spring, curled up in the snow, like he was on the verge of scrambling to his feet and running. His breath came in gasps so shallow they were barely audible, and for a while he just _stared_. Not at Grillby, though he was looking in Grillby’s direction. Whatever Gaster was seeing, it wasn’t the elemental kneeling on the ground in front of him.

Then slowly, the lights in Gaster’s eyes came crawling to life, though they stayed small and jittery, glimmering faintly in his dark sockets. His breathing suddenly deepened, his body relaxed. He blinked and looked at Grillby as if he’d _just_ realized the elemental were there, leaning in the snow and reaching out for him. Gaster let out an even heavier, shaking breath like a sigh, a miserable bubbling noise wincing past his teeth somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Grillby stammered, confused, “Gaster? Help me out here I don’t -”

“It was just snow.”

_ Gods  _ his voice was so quiet, shivering and now Gaster was clearly crying. He flashed Grillby a miserable, wincing look, “ _It was just snow.”_

“Gaster what are you -?”

“I’m sorry,” the skeleton babbled, his voice getting slowly louder and more distraught, an entirely different kind of panic than the quiet fear he’d been trapped in before, “I’m sorry I’m sorry it was wh - I couldn’t see you I couldn’t - I was - the wh-white was - I couldn’t see I c-couldn’t -”

Gaster coughed and grimaced, and before he could stammer out another word he promptly lurched to the side and threw up a mess of unsettled magic into the snow. Grillby scrambled into motion then, managing to kneel beside him, putting a hand gently on his back. Gaster flinched against his touch, but was too busy retching up magic to actually scramble away from him like he had before. Not knowing what else to do, Grillby just sat beside Gaster and rubbed soft circles into his back, flushing himself warmer, hoping it would somehow help. 

Eventually Gaster finished, and managed a miserable sort of laugh.

“I didn’t know I could do that,” Gaster whispered tearfully, his humor lost in the bitterness of his tone.

“You… you okay?” Grillby asked dumbly, at a loss for anything else to say.

“No,” Gaster muttered, wiping away some of what was left of the mess on his face against his sleeve, “No I’m not okay. It was snow.”

“Gaster I don’t -”

“ _It was just snow.”_

“ _Okay_ , it was snow,” Grillby snapped, caught somewhere between worry and exasperation, “What about snow made you do _that?”_

Gaster blinked up at him, about to answer when a shriek from across the camp cut him off. Grillby looked up to see another one of the rescued monsters looking in absolute _horror_ at the same field Gaster had been fixated on, scrambling back away from it and into the arms of one of the monsters beside them. There they buried their face in the second monster’s shoulder and sobbed. More of the rescued monsters were huddled around them. Some looked unfazed, others sad. A few stood and stared out at the snow-covered field, looking nothing short of lost and scared. And just like Grillby, the monsters of his unit could do nothing but watch confusedly and worriedly ask if they could somehow help.

Grillby scowled, a bubbling anger snarling to life inside of him. He didn’t know what was going on but it didn’t take much to figure out _humans_ had caused this somehow. What the hell had they _done_ to them? To _Gaster?_

“We… should get moving,” Gaster sighed, getting shakily to his feet.

Grillby flickered worriedly, but got to his feet and went about readying the camp for departure. They should be moving anyway, he supposed, and if this helped Gaster then all the more reason to get started. They ate breakfast quickly, packed up even quicker.

The walk across the field was miserable and slow. The rescued monsters walked across it nervously, some watching in scared wonder and others with their gazes rooted firmly on their feet. Gaster walked beside Grillby as he led them off, his breath panicky and sharp. Once or twice Grillby caught Gaster clawing at his arms again, and in an effort to keep him from doing it struck up a quiet conversation with their signing, intentionally messing up words so the skeleton could shakily reteach him over and over again. Grillby figured if Gaster’s hands were busy, he couldn’t use them to hurt himself.

By the end of the week they were home, and Gaster looked nothing short of shocked that they’d made it. It was a camp full of monsters, all bustling about their business. Soldiers sparred or worked. Commanders shouted orders. Messengers ran. Doctors were glimpsed between tents. Smiths forged. It was all gloriously _normal_ , and for a few seconds it looked like Gaster might cry at the sight of it, or panic again or maybe both.

“Alright,” Grillby called to his monsters, “You’ve all earned your rest. Ruke.”

The bird monster flashed him an annoyed, attentive look.

“See that everyone who needs medical attention gets it,” Grillby ordered as gently as he could manage, “We should be back by nightfall.”

Ruke gave a stiff nod and a curt, “ _Sir_ ,” before getting to work.

“B… back?” Gaster asked, finally ripping his gaze away from the camp around him, “Where are we going?”

“The King wanted to speak with you, if we got you back, lad,” Thetis said, joining them.

“Why… why does he want to speak with me?” Gaster stammered, his voice starting to pitch into something frantic, “I didn’t… I can’t possibly tell him anything anyone else couldn’t tell him.”

Thetis gave a longsuffering sigh and glared at Grillby, “You haven’t told him a thing, have you?”

The elemental grimaced, “It... didn’t seem like a good time.”

And to his credit, it _hadn’t_ seemed like a good time. Ever. The entire walk back, Gaster had seemed like he was in a daze, like he wasn’t fully there. He jumped at small noises, got… _lost_ … whenever he stared at the snow. Grillby didn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire. He’d meant well. 

For a second Grillby cringed, expecting some sort of lecture on his short-sightedness. Instead Thetis just let out another sigh, turning to Gaster. She watched him for a long moment, putting her thoughts together before finally speaking gently, _delicately_ , like she were trying to soothe a frightened child. 

“It’s nothing bad, Gaster,” she said quietly, “It’s just… well… it took some convincing before the King would let us go after you. That mission put a lot of lives at risk, you understand that.”

Gaster nodded, his expression lost in some sort of unreadable, frantic look, “Yes of course I do.”

“Aye well,” Thetis continued, “The only reason the King let us go was because I told him about your magic. Your studies on souls. And how we couldn’t let the humans keep it. He’s going to want to talk to you lad about everything you went through. Everything you told them.”

Grillby felt an indignant sort of prickle run through his soul. Gaster wouldn’t help the humans. He wouldn’t have told them anything! Nothing _important_ anyway… right? Or… maybe he had. Because Gaster looked like he might be near panic again, gripping his forearms in clenched and shaky fingers. Gods, he looked _terrified_. But before he could stammer anything out, Thetis was cutting him off.

“Don’t be scared, Gaster,” she murmured, and Grillby felt a shiver in the air when she spoke like magic… something cool and soothing that coated the back of his throat with a bittersweet taste. It dazed him for a second when the felt it, and Gaster noticeably calmed.

“You’re not in trouble,” Thetis continued, “We just need to know what they do. We have to be prepared.”

Gaster nodded slowly, “R… right.”

“That’s a good lad. Now come on.”

Grillby moved to follow Thetis, wrapping an arm around Gaster’s shoulders as they walked, coaxing him forward. Gaster sunk into the embrace as best he could, making their walk a little awkward, but Grillby didn’t want to let him go. Grillby noticed a few monsters staring as they walked, whispering and wondering about what was going on. From the feeling of intent in the air though, Grillby knew it wasn’t just Gaster that made them gossip. There was a feeling of dread and curious fear as Grillby passed through the camp. He chose to ignore it. He could worry about it later.

At length they made it to the King’s tent, and Grillby sighed with relief when he saw the guard there.

“Terros!” Grillby said with an enthusiastic flicker, “Good to see you’re still okay.”

The elemental stood by the entryway to the King’s tent, arms crossed and expression sour. He brightened a bit when he saw Grillby. Just barely. Grudgingly. Grillby couldn’t really blame him.

“You’re not dead yet?” he asked with tired sarcasm.

“Neither are you,” Grillby pointed out, “That’s a good thing.”

“Is it?” there was a little more bitterness behind the statement than Grillby wished there was, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

Inside the King was waiting, sitting at an improvised sort of table in the center of his tent. It was really just a few boxes stacked together - two functioning as seats while a few tied together functioned as the table itself. There was an out-of-place looking tea set made in its center, the soft aroma of steeping tea leaves wafting through the crisp air.

When the King turned his gaze to the three of them, Grillby felt that overwhelming sense of _power_ flood over him like it always did, overbearing and stifling, and his soul fluttered in his chest. He and Thetis bowed, and beside him Gaster hesitantly mirrored the motion, his movements stiff and awkward. Asgore nodded to them, motioning for them to straighten. He was smiling, soft and pleasant and warm, like sunlight.

“It is good to have you home again,” Asgore hummed, smiling in Grillby’s direction, “And victorious, it would seem.”

“Yes sir,” the elemental flickered in reply.

“If you could have a full report for me by nightfall, Commander.”

Gaster gave a start when Grillby responded, “I will sir.”

Grillby could feel the skeleton’s eyes on him, and he nervously avoided the monster’s gaze. Right… he hadn’t told Gaster about that either. There was a lot about him that Gaster didn’t know, wasn’t there? There were… a few things… Grillby didn’t _want_ Gaster to know. That thought stole through him quietly, and he tried not to feel guilty for it.

“Thetis, would you get me statements from the other monsters rescued as well? I would like to know everything that has happened with them.”

“Yes sir,” Thetis said with a firm nod, “I’ll get on it immediately.”

“Very good, now,” Asgore sighed and stood, and with the movement another wave of the King’s awe filled intent poured over Grillby’s soul. _Gods_ standing in the room with a boss monster was intoxicating. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it. Dazedly he realized the King was walking over to them, offering a mighty paw to Gaster to shake.

“You must be Doctor Gaster,” he said warmly, taking the skeleton’s frail hand in his. The King was warm and gentle, yet somehow still looming, “I’ve heard many good things about you.”

“I’m glad,” Gaster stammered, smiling nervously, looking nothing short of overwhelmed, “I mean - thank you Your Highness.”

Asgore chuckled, “Please, Asgore is fine.”

Then he added a bit more sternly, “It is unfortunate we must meet under these circumstances, but it is a pleasure to meet you nonetheless. Come, we have much to discuss.”

Asgore turned and lumbered back to the table, looking almost comically large in comparison to the seat he was forced to sit in. Even more ridiculous was when he insisted on pouring tea, as if this were not the _King_ sitting in a war tent. Gaster huffed out a tense sigh, and joined the King at the table. His hands slipped around the cup of tea he was offered, nervously clinging to the pale ceramic. Gaster cast a glance back in Grillby’s direction.

“Ah yes, my apologies,” Asgore hummed, “You two are both excused.”

Grillby bowed, Thetis mirroring the action beside him, but before they could leave Gaster spoke up, his voice just the barest bit frantic.

“Wait! Uh…” Gaster’s hands tightened just slightly around the cup in his hands, “I would feel… safer… if Grillby stayed.”

Gaster paused, and then said in a slightly more controlled voice, “Please.”

Asgore watched him for a few moments, quietly surprised. Then he gave a solemn sort of nod and motioned for Grillby to join them at the table. There were only two seats, so Grillby stood stiff and worried beside Gaster, trying to keep the nervous color out of his flame. He wanted to put his arm around Gaster’s shoulders, hold his hand or offer some sort of outward comfort. But with the King here… he didn’t know if that was allowed? Were there rules about that? Probably. So instead Grillby stood close by Gaster’s shoulder, trying not to be drenched completely in the King’s intent, making a conscious effort to keep the heat from his flame warm and comforting. 

“Now,” Asgore began, “To get to the point, I was informed of your work on souls, Doctor Gaster. Your work coupled with what the humans have already been able to accomplish in using magic like ours against us, it opens up a lot of worries involving your capture. I need you to tell me as much as you can about what they know now. Anything you believe could be of use to us now.”

“They know everything.”

Gaster felt a jolt of surprise lance through him. _What?_ Gaster said it with surety and firmness, his eyes locked plainly with the King’s, his expression grim. The nervousness was slumping out of Gaster now, replaced by a cold sort of tiredness, almost _distant_. Like he was purposely trying to feel nothing as he spoke. It was a tone Grillby didn’t think he’d ever heard from his friend… he wasn’t sure he liked it either.

“I see,” Asgore hummed, “And what does _everything_ entail?”

Again, with a voice that was sure and bitter, “I don’t know.”

Grillby watched his own confusion mirror itself in the King’s expression.

“I wasn’t… coherent… for most of my capture,” Gaster explained before any more questions could be asked, “They used a spell on me… something that kept me subdued. I can’t remember much.”

Gaster hesitated for a second, collecting his thoughts, stamping down his emotions, “It… it left me with… impressions… I guess. I know anything they wanted to know, I told them. I know they used my magic and might have… st… stolen it… somehow.”

Gaster looked down at the glass in his hands again, looking lost. Like his own words confused him, “But I can’t remember anything. Every day Thi - uh… a mage would come and see me. And cast a spell. And all I’d see for _hours_ was white. I couldn’t get out of it. I couldn’t wake up from it. I was paralyzed I… no matter how hard I tried… and then… I’d wake up exhausted hours later and all I could do was sleep.”

Gaster’s voice dropped low and quiet, barely above a whisper, “It was all just… white and black… over and over again.”

Then even lower, a murmur Grillby could barely hear from where he stood beside his friend, “... I think it almost killed me.”

Standing still was starting to become a fight. Grillby didn’t know what he was feeling now, just that it was writhing in his stomach, looping through his soul. He felt like a livewire, jittery and energized, like he needed to pace. And at the same time he wanted to throw up, or maybe throw his arms around Gaster and comfort him. He was nauseous and horrified all at once and also passionately, quietly, _desperately_ furious. 

Humans. He _hated_ humans. He hated them with every writhing inch of his core, with every acidic twinge he felt burning in his chest. He hated them so much it made him sick.

Gaster cleared his throat and continued, that distance creeping back into his voice, “I don’t know for how long it went on, just that one day it stopped, and we were rescued shortly afterwards. As for the nature of the spell they used… I’m not sure too much about it. I don’t know if only sapped me of magic or if it was something else entirely. I have a few theories but…”

Gaster shook his head, “ _Anyway_. I might not know exactly what I told them, but I have strong impressions of things I know. I guess… gut feelings - as unreliable as that sounds. I knew, for example, that the books in the place I was kept belonged to the mage that was keeping me. I knew they’d learned everything of use that they’d wanted to. It might be difficult but, if I’m asked the right questions maybe… maybe I could remember something useful?”

For a long while Asgore said nothing, simply clasping his hands on the table, staring at nothing in particular and thinking.

“I’m sorry,” Gaster stammered falteringly, “I know it sounds far-fetched but -”

“Do not worry yourself, Doctor,” Asgore interrupted, his voice calm and reassuring, “We have known for some time that humans were tampering with monster souls. It’s obvious whatever they have been doing to steal our magic; they’ve done it to you as well.”

“Y… yes.”

“The magics that they stole,” Asgore continued, “Did they take them from you completely? Or perhaps only used it to make their own?”

Gaster looked down at the cup in his hands again, thinking, “It was copied.”

Asgore nodded, “What did they intend to use it for?”

“... I don’t know.”

“Was it one mage that learned it?”

“One learned it first. I think… to teach others.”

And so the conversation went. What started out as a confession turned into a jumbled up interrogation, with Asgore calmly asking dozens of questions and Gaster responding as best he could. Most of Gaster’s answers were vague at best, if he was able to give an answer at all. A few answers were oddly specific though, so much so that they made no sense. Like how he knew the direction of the wind came persistently from one direction in the encampment he’d been in, that he was always taken and returned at the same time.

When asked what they’d learned about his work with souls, he could only answer that they knew a lot, but could never remember specifics. And when asked if Gaster had learned anything about human souls or plans, he always came up blank. Either the spell they’d used had erased it from his memory, or they’d taken great pains to keep him from learning anything. This didn’t surprise Gaster in the least. He recounted how he’d dropped the barrier once, and how the humans had learned then that he knew too much about how they worked. If he learned an ounce of their magic, he’d be too great a threat to them.

The back-and-forth questioning lasted for a few hours, with Gaster getting ever more exhausted the longer he talked, his answers ever shorter and vaguer. Eventually the King dismissed him, bidding him rest and return in a few days’ time when they could go over everything again and see if anything else could be recovered. There was disappointment in his voice as he’d said it though. Asgore had hoped he’d learn more.

When they were outside of the tent, Grillby wrapped an arm around Gaster’s shoulders. He offered Gaster a reassuring flicker, and the skeleton smiled back exhaustedly, miserably.

“You did well,” Grillby said quietly.

“Really?” Gaster asked with a bitter chuckle, “I thought I was pretty useless.”

Grillby shrugged. Honestly he could care less how _useful_ that entire ordeal had been. Just that Gaster was able to make it through it. Just that Gaster was alive to talk and answer questions and just _be_ , after everything he’d gone through. Grillby was thankful. In spite of his anger and bitterness over everything that had happened, he could only be _thankful_.

Grillby led the way across camp to where his unit was situated. A tent had been pitched for him, probably a kindness done by Thetis before she’d gone off on her own interviewing. She’d probably be busy with that all night - which meant Grillby would have to ask Ruke for help in making his report. Grillby was still learning how to write, his letters awkward and wobbly, the amount of words he could actually spell was dismal at best. He wasn’t looking forward to asking Ruke for help, but it was unavoidable.

Gaster immediately retired inside, leaving Grillby to finish his duties for the evening. Grillby was… scared to just leave him. They needed to talk. There was a lot that needed caught up on. But Gaster was exhausted and didn’t even give Grillby a moment to speak before he slipped away. Grillby could… almost think the skeleton was avoiding him… if they hadn’t just spent the entire day in each other’s presence. Maybe… now just wasn’t a good time.

Grillby sighed out a breath of smoke, thinking sarcastically to himself, _it will never be a good time_.

Ruke helped him with his report, writing down in their own neat script everything Grillby recounted and occasionally adding a remark of their own. The elemental ran the finished report to the King - who was already pouring through notes Thetis had brought back to him. Then Grillby dashed off across camp to see Brigg and remind the dragon that he was still alive - and tell him he’d brought Gaster back as well. The dragon gave him a skeptical scowl when he heard of the losses his unit took while going on the reckless mission, but he congratulated Grillby nonetheless.

Grillby didn’t really know what he expected in talking to Brigg. Pride maybe? Happiness? Anything other than the awkward, shuffling response he received. Though he supposed it figured. Grillby didn’t know how he was supposed to _feel_ after something like this. His friend who he’d mourned over, started to heal from the loss of, was back. Back and noticeably different, scared and nervous and exhausted to his very soul. And Grillby was different as well, and quietly terrified that Gaster wouldn’t like the way he’d changed. 

Grillby felt… _lost_. Muted feelings of contentment and confusion curled through his flame and toned it in colors that were never supposed to mix. It was frustrating that he couldn’t just be _happy_.

He was so busy worrying, Grillby hardly realized Terros was approaching him through the camp until the elemental was right on top of him, all roiling intent and scattered emotions. They were so like Grillby’s own, he could almost be convinced they were feeling the same thing. He grabbed Grillby by his wrist and dragged him off, Grillby barely able to let out a startled “ _hey!”_ before he was forcibly marched to the outskirts of the camp. When Terros finally released him, he didn’t stop moving. He paced in front of Grillby, intent jittering through the air so harshly Grillby felt his own soul thrum up against it, like some heartbeat that fought against itself.

“Woah, hey, what’s wrong?” Grillby sparked confusedly.

“I heard your friend,” Terros snapped suddenly, spinning to face Grillby and wrap him up in an accusatory glare, “I _heard_ what he said about that magic.”

“Okay, so you heard,” Grillby said with a nervous cough of a laugh, “Tent walls are pretty easy to hear through.”

“The _white magic_ , Grillby!” Terros snapped, “That’s _exactly_ what happened to me!”

Grillby blinked.

“... what?”

“When I lost control,” Terros continued, huffing out a tense breath, “And I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t _black out_. Everything went _white_. And it wasn’t until you hit me that I - I dunno - I _woke up_.”

Grillby watched Terros, his mind slowly crawling to life. Right. Of course. _Of course_. How could he have forgotten that? Grillby rifled through his inventory for a moment, pulling out the shattered pieces of the mage’s staff and the crystal he’d found _weeks_ ago now, lost in the aftermath of Terros’ magic. He held it out to the stone elemental, who took it hesitantly. Terros stared at him for a moment, a question in his magic.

“I found that out in the field after our fight,” Grillby said.

Terros looked down at the broken pieces in his hands, “A… mage staff?”

“I think so, yes.”

There was a pause, and then Terros growled, clenching his hands around the staff pieces in his hands, “You… You _knew_ about this? _You lied to me?”_

“Terros -”

“You lied to _the King!”_ Terros screamed suddenly, taking a threatening step towards Grillby, “You said it was _panic_ that did this! I was demoted because of this! The _entire army_ has been treating us like we’ll just snap on them at any minute - !”

“They _already_ treated us like that,” Grillby spat bitterly, cutting Terros off, “And besides, what else did you want me to do, Terros?! You were practically _begging_ to be dispelled! I had to stop you somehow.”

“By _lying?”_

“I didn’t have enough to go off of to tell the truth!” Grillby said persistently, his chest tight and his throat burning as he spoke, “I didn’t know what it _was!_ I couldn’t let you just waltz up to the King with a wounded unit and a broken staff and expect everything to turn out okay. And then Gaster happened and I couldn’t _stay here_ waiting for this to clear up.”

Terros was shaking, _livid_ , his voice low and dangerous, “You _abandoned me_ here, over a _lie_. I was stripped of everything-!”

“It’s better than being dead!”

The sentence was hardly out of Grillby’s mouth when Terros’ fist connected with the side of his face. Grillby fell hard on his back, wincing not because it hurt - it didn’t - but because of the intent and emotion behind it. Distraught and writhing anger crashed through Grillby’s senses like a spark of lightning, followed by the consuming feeling of betrayal, all sent rocketing through him through Terros’ touch. Grillby was left dumb in the wake of it, hardly able to regain his senses enough to sit and look up at Terros who now towered over him.

“I thought it was my fault,” Terros hissed, his shaking voice hardly a whisper _,_ “I almost _killed them_ and I thought it was _my fault_.”

“Terros,” Grillby said gently, pitifully, “It wouldn’t have been your fault either way.”

“You will not speak to me again,” Terros snapped harsh enough that Grillby flinched, “Not until you’ve fixed this.”

“What do you want me to do?” Grillby asked, but the stone elemental ignored him. Instead he spun on his heel and walked.

“Terros, wait,” Grillby called after him, getting to his feet, “Terros, come back!”

Of course Terros kept walking and Grillby was still a bit too scrambled up to follow. What could he even _say_ that would make this better? Oh… _gods_. Where did he even start? For the second time that day Grillby felt sick, though this time from his nervousness about his own mistakes. Gods but what else could he have done? Thrown the broken ends of what _might have been_ a mage’s staff at the King’s feet and pray he decided Terros’ episode was somehow a human’s fault? And even if he confronted the King now… everything that had happened to Gaster… if it was the same spell…

Was it even the same spell? Everything Gaster talked about said his magic had been stolen away from him. If it were the same spell used on Terros… wouldn’t it have left the elemental too weak to fight? He would have lost the battle, wouldn’t he? It didn’t make sense. Grillby didn’t know _enough_. And then there was the fact that he’d lied. He’d lied about something that for all he knew might put monsters’ lives at stake - it hadn’t _yet_ , but it _could_ , couldn’t it? If this was some unknown spell he’d willingly kept from the King himself… what would they do to him? He… he couldn’t be dispelled now. He’d _just_ gotten Gaster back! For the first time in months Grillby actually _cared_ whether he lived or died or not!

Grillby wanted to sleep. Oh _gods_ he wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. He hated this. He hated all of this. He was supposed to be _happy_.

Tiredly, Grillby resolved to talk to Thetis about it in the morning. Surely she could help him… right? Maybe? He didn’t… he didn’t know he just...

Grillby walked back to his tent, slowly, trying not to think, fixated on nothing more than collapsing on the ground and sleeping as soon as he could. And he did. He spied the most comfortable-looking patch of dirt beside Gaster he could find and just laid there on his back, watching the soft breeze as it ruffled the tent ceiling. He watched and he breathed and he tried not to think, but despite his best efforts his thoughts kept spinning.

He felt stupid for ever being so hopeful that his life would be better when he brought Gaster back. For a few seconds, Grillby vividly and intensely wished he could reset time back to a few months ago, to when he and Gaster and Amathea were looking up at the stars and for a few seconds it felt like nothing terrible could even exist.

“Grillby?”

Grillby blinked at the ceiling.

“Are you awake?”

“I wish I wasn’t,” Grillby sighed out a heavy breath of smoke.

“... yeah,” Gaster replied quietly, “I know the feeling.”

Gaster shifted beside Grillby, hesitating to sign a few half-thoughts before finally sitting up and asking, “Could I… see your hand for a second?”

Grillby stifled a confused spark, “Uh… sure.”

He sat up as well, tiredly, offering his arm out to Gaster. The skeleton took a second to roll up Grillby’s sleeve before interlacing the fingers of one of his hands with Grillby’s own. With his free hand he gently touched Grillby’s arm, pressing cool digits against Grillby’s warmer core, feeling the way it shifted and turned. Watching the flames on Grillby’s arm sift between his fingers. It occurred to Grillby that it had been… a _long time_ … since he had been touched. That was something Gaster did. Something Amathea did. A hand on his shoulder, or against the small of his back. A playful smack on the back of his head if he did something stupid. Hands that healed him when he was wounded. Bodies he could lean into when he couldn’t stand on his own.

Gaster spoke, breaking Grillby out of his thoughts, “Thetis told me about Ammy… while you were taking care of the fire.”

His grip on Grillby’s arm tightened a little, “She’s… really gone… isn’t she?”

Grillby felt his throat tighten, and he nodded.

“Thetis said you were there when it happened.”

Grillby let out a sigh that billowed smoke into the air in front of him, “I was the reason it happened.”

Gaster blinked up at Grillby, his expression for the most part unreadable. All he really looked was _tired_. Like he was weary of hearing bad news. Emotionally drained. Hollow. He was thinking. Grillby could tell by the way Gaster’s fingers twitched just barely against Grillby’s arm. He was restless to move his hands and somehow speak what he couldn’t say out loud.

Finally he asked with a quiet, watery voice, “Could… could I have saved her?”

If Grillby’s soul could melt, he was sure it would have. An ache roused itself in his chest, the colors in the tent shifting as his whole body burned in a miserable, pitiful mixture of blue and purple.

“No,” Grillby whispered, “I really don’t think you could have.”

Gaster nodded, his gaze dropping back down to the hands that clung to Grillby’s arm. His breathing hitched, and then with a soft tug he pulled Grillby towards him. The two embraced, Gaster burying his face in Grillby’s shoulder as he started crying. It was shaky and quiet, barely noticeable in the way Gaster’s breathing was uneven, the hug itself a little too tense to be a normal embrace. Their positions were a little awkward and uncomfortable, but Grillby basked in the closeness nonetheless. The feeling of _wholeness_ that came from Gaster’s arms wrapped around him as the skeleton cried. The closed his eyes and just _felt it_. Familiar ridges and angles, bone that was cool to the touch - a gentle, smooth sort of coolness that was harmless and reassuring, like waking up. A familiar _smallness_ , how completely Grillby could wrap his arms around the other.

Grillby wished Amathea was there to make the wholeness feel truly _complete_. But she wasn’t. And she’d never be. They would never be the same again, and he _hated_ it.

By the time they fell asleep they were laying again, arms still wrapped around each other’s for comfort, afraid if they broke apart for an instant, they’d wake up alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Okay.
> 
> First off, I'm really sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out to you. There's a plethora of reasons why this took so long, none of which are worthy of mentioning because they sound like they're just excuses to me and I'm sorry for that. But! We're not going to talk about my shortcomings as a human being right now because there's more important news to talk about!
> 
> That's right!
> 
>  **Casting Rain turned a year old on March 4**.
> 
> I was really really hoping to actually have birthday shenanigans finished before the event happened, but I thought CR turned a year old in May..... yeah I was a couple months off ahaha.
> 
> Anyway! I've decided what I really _really_ wanna do to celebrate is do some readings of chapters! I've always loved doing dramatic readings for things? And I thought it would be a cool way to commemorate what has been Casting Rain's past by reading it out loud to you guys! And you'll get to hear my voice so that'll be a coolthing!
> 
> Now! There's a couple things we can do for this.
> 
> First: I could read previous chapters of CR, that you guys suggest.
> 
> Secondly: I could write some CR related shorts (more of my deleted scenes) so you guys could hear new content being read aloud as opposed to stuff that's already happened.
> 
> Or lastly: If you guys wanted to, you could write and submit to me your own CR related shorts, and I could read those!
> 
> Now I'm game for any of these ideas - though I will admit I already have several people from Tumblr suggesting me chapters to read ahaha. 
> 
>  
> 
> **So, all that being said, here's what I'd like you guys to do:**
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. Leave a comment with a vote on which option you prefer  
> (a.) Reading a previous chapter  
> (b.) Reading a new short / deleted chapter  
> (c.) Reading a work you guys have submitted
> 
> If (a.), please also include the chapter(s) you want to see read  
> If (b.), you can include a prompt in your comment - though it's not mandatory  
> If (c.), and you have a short you want read, holler at me and I'll throw you my email/tumblr/deviantart - wherever you'd rather contact me.
> 
> I'm going to leave this open for vote/comment/what-have-you until April 4. Then I'll tally things up and start recording!
> 
> Thanks for spending a year with me guys. It's kind of crazy, actually, thinking CR has been alive this long. If you'd asked me last year if this story would last this long? I'd tell you you were insane, honestly. It's been a wild ride of feelings and growth as a writer... and I don't think I'm the same person I was when I started, strangely enough.
> 
> I hope I can continue to write a good story for you guys as this year progresses!


	66. Accountability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we debate about philosophy and fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I've sheepishly returned to you with a fanart feature!
> 
> First up is [this awesome little comic by TheNinjaWrites on Tumblr](https://theblogofcastingrain.tumblr.com/post/159733043757/silverskye13-theninjawrites-hey) that illustrates a scene from wayyy earlier on in Casting Rain, shortly after our boys met! And it made me giggle remembering the scene ahaha.
> 
> Next up is [Kakurosu back again with one of the scenes from last chapter, that is both hilarious and heartbreaking, given everything that's happened](http://kakurosu.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-chapter-65-670306491). 
> 
> And last but certainly not least is [ Loumun-Verson with a scene from last chapter as well](http://loumun-versen.deviantart.com/art/UT-Could-I-see-your-hand-678174722) that they just finished today, so there's some really cool psychic timing going on there ahaha.
> 
> Honestly you guys are beautiful. Thank you so much for everything you do and for sticking with me while I've been diving off the face of the earth. I appreciate it. :'D

Morning crept upon the camp warm and spring-like, with a gentle breeze that ruffled the tent canvas and wove a comforting chill through the air. Canvases that had once sagged under snow thawed, hesitant birdsong wafted through the air. It seemed almost as if the winter couldn’t decide whether it wanted to persist or give way to the changing of the seasons. Though the trees were still bare, the sky was deceptively open and bright. Grillby could almost mistake the morning for a warmer one if it weren’t for the pleasant prickle of cool against his core.

Grillby was up just as the dawn shattered the horizon in colors of fire, before Gaster, slipping away from his exhausted friend in the hopes of giving him the rest he so desperately needed and deserved. He awakened his monsters - not for training, but for gathering. This break in the weather was perfect for stocking wood for fires and short hunting forays for food, and the nearby river would be swelling with cool water they could use to drink and wash with.

So, he and his unit - and many other units like them - spent the morning gathering firewood and stoking fires. The wood was wet from the snow of a few days before, but with Grillby slowly coaxing the fires into existence, it lit regardless. Some monsters under Ruke’s leadership broke apart from the rest to start erecting better shelters to face the winter with than just tents should the weather turn again - shelters that had been torn down when they’d left for their first assignment that they now wished had stayed in place. They weren’t much, really. Trenches with quickly-fashioned walls, set close to the fires and filled with leaves and blankets where they could be spared. They were surprisingly warm though, especially when monsters huddled close to play cards and knuckle bones and tell stories, and Grillby was sure his monsters would appreciate them should the weather turn sour again. By noon Grillby was standing in what could have been a deserted camp, his monsters scattered about their chores or resting as they saw fit.

“So,” Ruke hummed, stepping up beside him, “Is the doctor joining us?”

Grillby flickered a confused spark, peering down at the bird monster questioningly, “What?”

“The doctor we rescued,” Ruke said shortly, “He stayed in our camp last night.”

Grillby’s flame turned in a soft frown, “I’m… actually not sure.”

Worry twisted its way through Grillby’s soul. What _was_ going to happen to Gaster after they started moving again? With Amathea gone and Grillby the commander of his own unit… Gaster was somewhere in limbo. Would he stay here with the medical tents? Or maybe get shipped off to somewhere more secure, like the Capitol? Would he be reassigned to a new unit or…?

Grillby realized with a start that Ruke was still watching him, the elemental’s nervous shades of green and yellow reflecting in his escort’s glassy eyes.

“He’s a distraction, isn’t he?”

Grillby scowled, “He’s a _friend_.”

Ruke raised a feathery eyebrow, “You’re an elemental. You don’t make friends.”

Grillby crossed his arms, “If I’m allowed to hate my enemies, I’m allowed to make friends.”

Ruke let out a soft trill of noise, more thoughtful than anything else. But unlike what Grillby was used to, the bird monster didn’t put a colder bite in the air or pridefully stride off. They instead ruffled their tail feathers against the breeze and tilted their head thoughtfully in Grillby’s direction, regarding the elemental out of the corner of their eye.

“You hate humans?”

“You _don’t?_ ” Grillby countered, his voice a little more sharp and defensive than he’d intended. Ruke raised a feathered eyebrow at him in return, though the glare wasn’t altogether judgmental - just silently and condescendingly bemused.

“Why do _you_ hate humans?”

Grillby crackled a scowl, “They took away my entire world.”

He paused, and then amended a little gentler, “Half of it, at least. That’s plenty reason enough.”

Ruke raised that condescending, feathered eyebrow again, a thoughtful chirp echoing underneath their breath. They shrugged, sweeping one of their arms in a dismissive gesture.

“You can’t hate humans just for being… _destructive._ It’s in their nature just as much as it’s in yours. Whatever they did to you wasn’t _personal_. It was just… _human_.”

Something gross and nauseating lit up in Grillby’s chest, like someone had lodged a stone where his soul should be. He glared down intently at Ruke, not sure whether he should be feeling angry or… something else.

“After all,” Ruke continued with another flippant shrug, “You wouldn’t hate a - hmm, let’s see - you wouldn’t hate a _whimsum_ because they can fly, would you? Or a dragon for trying to hoard. You wouldn’t hate a bird because it sings, though you can hate the song. There are certain constants in this world that are simply _fated_. Hate the sting of loss if you have to, or your own shortcomings, but hating an entire race for doing something in their nature is just…”

Ruke let out another thoughtful trill, searching for the right words, “Hmm… well… it’s _beneath_ you.”

Ruke paused again, thinking about what they’d just said and then shrugged, “Well, it’s beneath _monsters_ anyway, and you keep trying to convince me you _are_ one, so I’d say it should be beneath you as well.”

Honestly Grillby didn’t know what to say, or how to feel. He felt _uncomfortable_ , but whether it was towards angry or bitter or something else, he hadn’t really decided yet. Someone else replied for him though, a tired and weary voice he honestly wasn’t expecting.

“Mindless cruelty isn’t in human nature.”

Both Grillby and Ruke turned their gazes to Gaster, the skeleton monster having crept up on their conversation in that silent way that… honestly Grillby had forgotten the monster could do. It had been too long since the skill had surprised him like it did now, but he felt a certain comfort with the familiarity that came from it.

Gaster looked weary still. There was damage done to him that one long night of sleep couldn’t hope to touch. But he looked less broken up than he had the past week, firm despite the exhausted hunch in his shoulders. His arms were crossed loosely, his whole body tiredly stern, the lights of his eyes dim.

“If humans were really so destined for mindless hurt like you think they are, monsters would’ve been killed off years ago before we could ever form our own kingdom,” Gaster continued quietly, “Besides, if you want to make that argument - monsters have managed a lot of harm too. Does that mean we’re all destined to kill until we’re boss monsters, like we did in the dark ages?”

Ruke offered another of their noncommittal shrugs, “Monsters aren’t the same as humans just because we have a history of violence. Monsters are made with _some_ sort of purity and camaraderie in their souls. Things like love, hope, compassion - without these things, monsters fall down.”

Ruke let out another of their soft, thoughtful trills, “Humans have proven they don’t need these things to exist like we do.”

Grillby looked back to Gaster, watching as his friend’s gaze dropped down to his feet, waiting for a response. It was… becoming clear to him that both Ruke and Gaster had thought about things like this more than Grillby had - which wasn’t new. Most monsters seemed to care about these things more than he did. Grillby was content enough to blindly follow what his emotions told him - though right now he felt foolish and stupid because of it. He felt childish and young, and like he should know how he stood on things like this other than how _angry_ he could be.

Finally, Gaster answered slowly, “When I was… captured… I met a human child named Rowan.”

He sighed and finally relaxed his grip on his crossed arms, signing tiredly as he spoke, “The first time I met them, I was tearing their soul apart to take down a barrier. The second time I met them, they were lonely and sick and looking for companionship. Out of every human in that camp, they were the only one who had a specific reason to bear me ill will. But they didn’t. They didn’t even want to be in the war. They were just a child, just like every other monster child.”

Gaster cleared his nonexistent throat and said, “Do you mean to tell me that _that_ child, scared and alone, sitting on the floor and reading a book, sick and someplace they don’t belong - it's in that child’s nature to be mindlessly cruel?”

“Of course,” Ruke answered matter-of-factly, tail feathers twitching, “Just because it didn’t have a chance to prove it, that doesn’t mean the tendency wasn’t there. It just means the creature wasn’t given the chance to show it.”

Gaster regarded Ruke for a long moment before he spoke again, and when he did he picked his way through the sentence with the slow caution of someone thinking hard on the words they were saying as they spoke them, “So then, do you think they’re above consequences?”

Ruke blinked, feathers twitching in quiet confusion, “What?”

“Well it’s inevitable, right? Can’t be helped?” Gaster was gesturing again, long sweeping strokes with his arms that emphasized his sentences haphazardly and conveyed the fervent emotion that the tenseness in his voice lacked, “All the dust? All the killing? This war? If we believe this was all just _bound_ to happen, then can we ever fairly hold anyone accountable for it? Can we depose the kings whose orders spurred this on? Or the generals who’ve orders monsters imprisoned or tortured?”

Ruke shrugged, “Precautions would have to be taken I’m sure, to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again for as long as it can be helped. But you couldn’t begrudge an entire race for doing something they can’t help.”

The bird monster ushered to Grillby, almost as an afterthought, “You wouldn’t begrudge an elemental for burning just because he burned the wrong person, would you?”

To this Gaster scowled and he snapped in a voice that was tight and stern, “If he made the _conscious decision_ when there was obviously another choice, when he obviously _shouldn’t have_ , then _yes_. He would have to be held accountable.”

A jolt flinched its way through Grillby’s fire and he felt a crawling guilt build in his stomach, but he couldn’t place why. If it was just because he was being dragged into this conversation or if it was something else, something _deeper_. He just knew that suddenly all he wanted to do was crawl away. Away from Ruke and away from Gaster. Even though they were bickering with each other, suddenly Grillby was _convinced_ they were staring _right at him_.

“So, what’s your alternative then?” Ruke asked, their voice for once beginning to lilt out of its flippant tone and taking on a bit of the edge that Gaster’s had, “That everything that’s happened to us was a conscious choice? That someone, no, _a lot_ of people looked at _us_ and _chose_ this? That we don’t deserve the lands they’ve taken, the families they’ve killed, the _magic_ they’ve ripped out of us? _You.”_

Ruke jabbed one of their hands at Gaster and crowed bitterly, “You believe in a world where someone _willingly chose_ to do everything that they’ve done to _you?”_

Gaster hesitated for a second, hands stumbling through a few half-finished thoughts before he finally said with as much conviction he could muster, “I think… it’s a little more complicated than that.”

He crossed his arms and frowned, “But basically, yes.”

Ruke ruffled his feathers, like some mighty shiver had passed through them from beak to tail feathers, and said sharply, “You live in a crueler world than I do.”

Gaster opened his mouth to argue further, but a quick chirp from Ruke cut him off before he could say another word, “Perhaps later we can discuss this further. For now, it would appear our commander has denied you some basic needs in the rush to get back home.”

Grillby flickered a questioning look in Ruke’s direction, and the bird monster said haughtily, “Your friend likely hasn’t bathed or eaten a decent meal since his capture. Perhaps you can amend that.”

Then, shuffling quicker than Grillby had ever seen the bird, Ruke stormed off, frost puddling beneath their feet as they went. Gaster watched him go, looking tired and annoyed. After a second he sighed and tilted his head in Grillby’s direction.

“Who in the world was that?”

“Uh…” Grillby flickered through a few nervous, self-conscious hues, “Ruke. Ruke Whitewhisper.”

He added a bit hesitantly, “My escort, technically.”

Gaster stiffened and cast a more bitter look in the direction the monster had retreated to, “Are you serious?”

“Y-yeah,” Grillby said quietly, “He’s a bit of a handful… but his heart’s in the right place… I think?”

Honestly Grillby didn’t know. He doubted he was a good enough judge of character to say something like that with confidence. But it seemed to put Gaster a little more at ease, so that was good he supposed.

“Uh… the river’s this way,” Grillby said finally, breaking the tense silence that had descended over them, “We’re kind of short on supplies so I don’t know how doable knew clothes are… but I can wash yours while you get cleaned up.”

Gaster sighed and then smiled, and there was so much relief in his features it was almost heartbreaking, “That sounds fantastic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I come to you with my hat in my hands and my head bowed and an apologetic soul.
> 
> I'm so so sorry it took me this long to get a chapter out. I had grand plans to have it out sooner and they just... didn't... work out. I've been doing a lot lately, and had a bit of writer's block to boot, but most of all I've been drawing. Drawing so much my wrists have been strained and I've had to wear a brace to sleep for the past week or so. Which is no fault of anyone's. I choose to do this. But that's why this has been so long, mostly. I've been drawing, and so I haven't had time to do much writing.
> 
> That and these next few chapters have me really reluctant to write them.  
> I just.... hmm.......  
> There's a lot of verbal drama building in this arc. And a lot of talking and debating. And a lot of - ahem - _accountability_. And like all things involving this story, I am absolutely nervewrackingly paranoid about _doing it right_.


	67. The Subtle Impacts of a Negative Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, during the author's absence, they've forgotten how to write chapter summaries.
> 
> Grillby tries and fails to keep Gaster in high spirits. There are a lot of thoughtful silences exchanged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm so so _so so so_ sorry this has taken so long to get to you. I guess I'll try explaining a little in the end chapter notes why it took so long. Uhm.... I'm _sure_ there's an art feature I've missed at some point but I'm a mess and haven't found it yet so I'll do some digging by the time the next chapter comes around.
> 
> I'm just really relieved I got this chapter finished.

Grillby lead the way to the river, cautiously quiet as he walked, trying to convince himself that the silence passing between him and Gaster was companionable instead of the clunky and awkward he felt. This shouldn’t be awkward, he knew. Gaster was his best friend for heavens’ sakes! But… he’d been gone. And upon returning he was an entirely different person. This Gaster didn’t crack jokes or make off-the-wall observations about monsters they passed or things they saw. This Gaster didn’t sign every thought or emphasize every sentence. This Gaster looked around at the bustling of the camp with shuddering lights in his eyes, hands clasped around his arms to keep them still.

Guarded.

This Gaster was guarded.

He’d disappeared out of Grillby’s life as a glass door, and returned as a castle gate made of stone.

Or at least, that’s what it felt like. Maybe Grillby’s mind was just still a little addled up from the conversation of a few minutes prior. Maybe he was just overthinking things. They’d been out of each other's’ company for so long - of course it would take a while for them to slip back into their version of normal.

Right?

For now, Grillby settled on that thought and did his best to shove away small thoughts that said otherwise, until scattering river stone crunched beneath his boots instead of grass and mud.

The stretch of river Grillby lead them to was a little deeper and calm, upstream a bit from the faster water that most monsters did their laundry in. He didn’t really _know_ where most monsters did their bathing since he never really had to himself, but he’d seen monsters head off in this direction before. The area now was deserted, most creatures a little too susceptible to the chill in the air to bother with washing often. The air was a bit warmer today, but definitely not warm enough for a swim. Maybe the water was too cold still as well? Probably, if it was filled with melting snow and ice. There was no real way Grillby could tell for sure though.

Gaster didn’t really seem concerned about it. He was already unbuckling his worn boots, the faded leather caked with a few months’ worth of unwashed mud and grit and gods knew what else. Grillby waited patiently for his friend to undress and wade into the water before sweeping up the tattered and threadbare clothes in his arms and walking a few paces away to start washing - careful to equip the gloves Brigg had given him what seemed like so long ago now, back when the wound of loss were a bit more fresh on Grillby’s soul.

A flood of awkwardness flushed over him again, twisting his flame in hues of green. Grillby had been _so distraught_ , thinking he was completely alone - all while Gaster was alive and just beyond his notice.

He felt ridiculous.

Ashamed almost.

“ _Gods_ I almost forgot what water felt like!” Gaster sighed, laying out in the river just past where Grillby could walk, where the water swelled higher than the tops of the elemental’s boots. Grillby frowned down at his reflection, at the way the water moved around his boots and gloves as he scrubbed away at a muddy stain in Gaster’s clothes.

“What _does_ water feel like?” Grillby asked.

In an instant Gaster opened his mouth to answer, took a breath and paused. His brow furrowed in a frown, which slowly deepened as his confusion turned more and more into a bemused sort of shock.

“You don’t know what water feels like?” The skeleton countered, his frown deepening, “But… rain? And the river?”

Grillby shrugged, “Well to me it all just feels cold and painful.”

He managed a flicker of a smile, sparks scattering in a quiet chuckle, “Is that what water normally feels like?”

“Well _no_ ,” Gaster hummed, “But it doesn’t… _not_ feel like that. It depends?”

He sat up where he’d been lying, frowning questioningly in Grillby’s direction, “I mean, I guess I’m not the best person to ask. I have no skin.”

He pulled an arm out from where it had been submerged and paused to inspect the water that ran off him and back into the river, “More feel-y monsters could probably tell you better… or at least _different_.”

Grillby shrugged - that made sense he supposed.

Gaster frowned down at the water again, “It’s just… something cool touching you. Softly. Kind of like wind but more firm.”

Gaster paused thoughtfully and then shrugged, “You know... I guess it feels _round_.”

“Round?” Grillby crackled a confused smirk, “You can’t _feel_ round. It’s a shape.”

Gaster crossed his arms grandly, mocking an indignant look, “You can too, and that’s what water feels like.”

Grillby beamed at the snarky comment, an elated flutter in his chest. _There_. _There was the Gaster he remembered_. All grandiose and over exaggerated over the simplest things.

A mischievous spark as he ran a gloved hand through the water, “So _this_ is what round feels like?”

“Yes,” Gaster tutted, smirking. A little _too_ smug.

“What about _this?”_

Wincing slightly and stifling a hiss, Grillby flung his hand through the water, splashing a wave in Gaster’s direction. The returning splatter stung and sent a shiver across his core like goosebumps, but it was worth it for the startled look he caught in Gaster’s eyes as the splash of cold water broke across his face. The skeleton sputtered as Grillby laughed, and then his surprise was replaced with a playful sort of scowl.

“That was just _rude_ ,” Gaster frowned.

“Was it?” Grillby replied as innocently as he could manage past his crackling laughter.

“Yes!” Gaster tutted indignantly, “I can't even splash you back!”

“Well that's just _tragic._ Whatever will you do?”

Gaster narrowed his eye sockets in Grillby’s direction and sunk further into the water, warning with quiet amusement, “Pick your enemies wisely firefly.”

“Pfft! I'm not scared of you,” Grillby grinned and shrugged, “I always won our sparring matches anyway.”

“You did _not.”_

“Did so.”

“ _Did not.”_

Grillby flickered a mischievous grin, “Did _so--!”_

And with the last word he sent another splash of water in Gaster’s direction. This time the skeleton leapt to his feet to meet the rush of water, a handful of river stones slipping through his clenched hands.

“ _That is it!!”_ He shrieked with a grin. The skeleton launched the handful of stones in Grillby’s direction, and with a gleeful shout of his own Grillby leaped to dodge them. It was a risky maneuver he probably should’ve put more thought into. The water hindered his movements, splashed in resistance against him and soaked his pants and stung. But he was laughing anyway. And though Grillby stumbled for a second - soul nervous as he caught himself before he could topple into the shallow water - he still managed to dodge the handful of river stones that were lobbed at him. The stones splashed and sprinkled him in droplets of water, and Grillby repressed another shiver.

And for a second, both of them giggling, Grillby and Gaster simply watched each other. Grillby was shaking just slightly, though he hoped his laughter hid it. Nervousness curled in his stomach because of the water, and the droplets that splashed, and how _stupid_ he must be to be playing in a river with his friend. But it was the _friend_ bit that made this worth it. And Grillby was sure Gaster felt the same way. He laughed but he also signed his thoughts out loud to himself, thoughts of subtle worry about the fact that they were playing around in a river of all places. Somewhere shallow and secure, but by no means completely _safe_.

Then Grillby splashed Gaster again and lunged for the bank, each lunging stride hauling through the water with the same heavy pulls of his breathing as he sparked and laughed. And Gaster sputtered and followed him, shouting some breathless threats that ultimately Grillby didn’t hear. As soon as the elemental’s foot hit the gravel bank, he felt a smattering of pings against his core - more of those river stones that Gaster had tossed. They didn’t hurt, just rained and bounced over him harmlessly. Gaster’s only real way of splashing Grillby back.

Then Gaster was barreling into his back, catching the elemental off-balance, and with a yelp they collapsed in a tangle of laughs and flailing limbs. They wrestled somewhat, if it could even be called that. They were all laughs and shoves and elbows thrown too gently to do more than jostle each other around. Grillby was too scared of somehow hurting Gaster, and Gaster was still too weak to put up much of a challenge. But it was stupid and it was _fun_ , and it lasted until they were both breathless and sprawled out under one of the trees that huddled close to the bank. Gravel and mud smeared and clung to them. Grillby’s core ached slightly in places where his dampened clothes clung to him.

“I win,” Gaster said, finally breaking through their smattering of chuckles and smirks.

“That was a tie,” Grillby huffed with a grin, smoke curling out with his breath.

“You stopped first.”

“Only ‘cuz I’m taking it easy on you.”

Gaster’s smirk stretched into a wide, toothy grin, “Then I want a rematch.”

“You’re on,” Grillby chuckled, sitting up slowly, “ _Later_.”

The skeleton nodded his agreement.

Together they finished cleaning up again. Grillby took a few extra moments to dry and warm Gaster’s clothes for him as the skeleton finished up. If the way the Gaster snuggled into the battered robes again was any indication, he appreciated the gesture. Once done, Gaster insisted on sitting with Grillby for a few minutes to make sure the elemental was okay. Grillby knew he was fine, but for his friend’s sake he let Gaster check through his stats. And honestly, it felt comforting to have his soul cupped in Gaster’s hands again, as if they were just coming back from an actual spar and making sure each other was okay.

The lightheartedness sunk away from Gaster’s expression like the slow collapse of melting snow, and in its place rose a smallness and a sadness that Grillby wasn’t expecting. It tilted his flame into concerned hues, reflecting colors of green and blue off of Gaster’s face. Somehow, the color made him look sadder.

“Is… something wrong?” Grillby asked.

Gaster took a long moment respond, his expression completely unreadable, a mask of thoughts that he didn’t bother moving his hands to voice. His brow furrowed, stretching slightly the cracks of his face in a way that looked almost painful.

“You’re… weaker than I remembered,” Gaster said quietly, finally locking his eyes with Grillby’s. And then his voice was brimming with concern, “Grillby, what happened to you?”

Grillby was genuinely confused, “I…nothing. At least, not that I remember.”

“ _Nothing?”_ Gaster asked, sitting back away from the elemental before him, “Grillby have you even _looked_ at your stats since I’ve been gone?”

Grillby blinked. Uh… no. Actually, he hadn’t. He hadn’t really _needed_ to. He hadn’t _wanted_ to. For the longest time, he hadn’t even cared.

Gaster sighed, sad and confused and concerned all at once as he said, “Grillby, your stats are halved. _Everything_ is halved.”

Grillby gave a jolt, “Wait.... what?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Gaster practically yelled, “Gods above Grillby! Your health his down half, your defense is almost as low as _mine_. No wonder Thistle -!”

Both of them cringed, down-to-the-soul motions that neither of them could stifle.

Gaster sighed and then muttered, “Your attack is about the only thing that’s stayed the same, thank gods. I just… I don’t understand. Have you been sick? Was this from that… the fight with the resets or the wizard before it or…? Did you… were you…?”

Gaster’s voice dropped to something like a whisper, a hand reaching up to rub his face as he asked hesitantly, “Were you ever… falling down?”

Oh. _Oh_. Grillby felt a pang like guilt go through his chest. But he’d… pulled out of that hadn’t he? It was still hard to get up in the morning sure, but he was nothing like the stumbling mess he’d been months ago. He just… he’d been surviving. He’d been living. He’d been fighting forward one step after another for so long. He’d kind of figured he’d rebounded from all that mess. Was he still sick with it then? Or was it just something that never truly healed? Grillby folded his hands in his lap, trying not to feel the weirdest, writhing mix of uncomfortable and ashamed.

“... firefly?”

Grillby sighed out a breath of smoke, “Yeah… I almost fell. I’m sorry.”

 _“You’re sorry?”_ Gaster’s voice sounded strangled and tight, like he was speaking through a gasp.

Grillby rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Honestly, he had no idea how to talk about this.

“Yeah I just… I didn’t really know… you know… what was happening at the time. Nobody really explained anything,” Grillby muttered awkwardly, “I mean… Brigg said some cryptic stuff once… that was probably… _trying_ to be helpful. And Terros yelled a lot about my soul being weak. I just kind of, you know, had a hard time getting up in the morning. It’s, honestly a lot of it’s a blur now.”

A blur. A giant, grey, lifeless blur where Grillby’s only driving function was the fact that he’d been assigned a new unit to take care of. That he’d convinced himself his life wasn’t his decision to give up on. A large grey blur where every once in a while someone would shake him awake and make him do something, and keep him from going back to sleep again until they knew he could handle it. A grey blur when sometimes the only reason he woke up at all was because he had a piece of ice on his throat that pricked him in the middle of the night.

Hmm… well… looking back on it like that made it seem a little more dismal than Grillby remembered it being. At the time it had seemed… weirdly, sadly normal.

“ _Why?”_ Gaster asked, his voice a harsh whisper, “Why would you _ever_ be that far gone?”

It was probably rude of him, but of all the questions Gaster had ever asked him, Grillby found this one to be the most stupid. To him, it was obvious.

“I was alone, Gaster,” Grillby stated, with an odd sort of harshness that he couldn’t force out of his tone if he tried, “I kind of stopped seeing the point in being here.”

“But…” Gaster stammered, stuck somewhere between pity and horror, “But you _weren’t_ …”

Grillby shrugged, “I felt like I was.”

Gaster still blinked at him dumbstruck, not really knowing what to say. Maybe he just didn’t understand, and if so Grillby honestly couldn’t blame him.

Or maybe, he just didn’t realize -

“Gaster, I thought you were dead,” Grillby hummed quietly, “You know that, right?”

The skeleton’s eye sockets opened just a little wider, if that were even possible.

“I thought… I mean… I didn’t _see_ you fall out there,” Grillby said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously again, “But that blast killed _everyone_. It killed Gravin in one hit, the King, it _almost_ killed Ora. Everyone was just _dust_ Gaster, and I couldn’t find you anywhere. I _looked_. Obviously not well enough…”

Grillby felt a pang of guilt that he did his best to shove aside, “... but I couldn’t find you. I thought you were just _gone_.”

Gaster sighed, his rigid surprise deflating into something that looked tired and empathetic.

“And then Ammy was gone,” Grillby muttered quietly, “and the only reason I even stood up from that field after all that was because she told me to.”

Grillby splayed his hands out in a helpless sort of gesture, “I’m sorry.”

Gaster tutted out something like a laugh, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes, I do,” Grillby argued, his flame curling in a scowl, “I really, _really_ do. None of that should have happened. I failed as a friend, and as a warrior, and as an elemental. There are so many things I should have done differently, but I didn’t or I _couldn’t_ , and now we’re here.”

Grillby ran a hand through the flames on the top of his head, “Gaster, I left you behind. You were alive out there and I _left_.”

Grillby looked at Gaster, and he _prayed_ the color of his flame could convey just how heartfelt he was when he spoke and signed, “I’m sorry.”

Gaster watched him for a long moment. Grillby could tell the skeleton was thinking, and probably trying to choose his words carefully. He could tell by the half-finished signs Gaster motioned through as he thought, the little flicks of his wrist a little too jumbled up and quick for Grillby to distinguish what they meant. Grillby wished for a few seconds that Gaster were like him, that his emotions projected outward with colors the elemental could _read_ , because sitting and watching Gaster trying to figure out what he was going to say was nerve-wracking.

“Grillby, you had no way of knowing I was there,” Gaster said finally, his voice sounding hollow, sad, “It _sucks_. _So much_ could have been avoided if _anyone_ other than the humans had found me. But they did and you didn’t.”

Gaster put on his best attempt at a reassuring look, “But I also don’t blame you, and there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

Grillby nodded, his gaze dropping down to his feet, feeling a lot like he’d just aged a dozen years. And still feeling guilty, all things considered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could catch glimpses of Gaster signing tiredly, processing his thoughts in one of the only ways he really knew how. Grillby caught the tail-end of one thought, or perhaps the beginning.

 _Maybe that’s why -_ and then an abrupt stop, as if Gaster didn’t want to bother with finishing whatever idea he’d started on. Grillby tried not to worry about it. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping anyway.

Besides, it was just nice to see Gaster signing again.

Grillby sighed and suddenly stood, squaring his shoulders and doing his best to shrug off the solemn air that had descended over him. He offered a hand to Gaster.

“Come on, it’s about time we had a decent meal that wasn’t travel food.”

Gaster smiled just barely, but allowed himself to be helped to his feet. As they walked off he let out a dreamy sort of sigh, “Oh _gods_ your cooking. I missed it so much.”

The elemental crackled a laugh, “Well don’t get your hopes up too much. I’m a little rusty.”

 _“Grillby!”_ Gaster gasped jokingly, doing his best to feign a look of shock, “Don’t tell me you’ve stopped cooking while I was gone! Gods I leave you alone for a few months and everything just falls apart!”

Grillby flashed a grin, “Oh hush. I just didn’t have anyone to cook for was all.”

He’d meant it good-naturedly - honestly - and he’d smiled as he said it, but regardless Gaster’s mood slumped back into a melancholy low as the phrase sunk in.

_I just didn’t have anyone to cook for._

Gaster faltered in that melancholy for a moment before recovering somewhat lamely, “Well… I’m sure it’ll be fantastic regardless.”

Grillby shrugged. He honestly didn’t care either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 2 and a half months I think? And I'm sorry. Time sort of slipped away from me. Jeezums.
> 
> There's a lot of personal life ranting down here. Feel free to skip it if you want to! I hold no grudges :)
> 
> \----------
> 
> Most of the reason this took so long was Indy Popcon. I was selling art there this year, and so the prep for that and my fire for side-projects that popped up along the way took time away from when I should or would have been writing. And then Popcon went - and we did horribly this year. It wasn't completely our fault - my tablemates and I. Honestly it wasn't. The Popcon team overbooked their artist alley. They uhm, they projected for 30,000 people to come this year, and booked about 1,000 vendors to account for that? But only about 5,000-6,000 people actually showed up. That averages out to like... 6 sales per table. It was abysmal. I kinda slumped. 
> 
> I hate... you know I hate stuff like that. Like I recognize it wasn't my fault. I was literally 1 person of a thousand selling and a large portion of us did terribly. I didn't even cover the costs of making my prints. They guy at the table beside us barely made enough money to buy his plane ticket back home. It sucked. It was bad. But like... I still felt like I personally failed? Like it's just another peg in the statement of : you can't making a living off what you love and you've wasted 4 years of your life pursuing a major that will ultimately mean nothing. And that kind of bitter depression leaked into my work. I've been drawing a lot to offset it, because it's instant gratification. I can post a drawing and get a few likes and feel like I accomplished something. Or I can slave over 3000 words of depressive fanfic, knowing I'm going to have to sink into a heavy headspace, and refresh the page obsessively for a few days afterwords. Like its... a lot of work over something I'm insecure over and think sucks. A lot of work over something that I think will ultimately amount to nothing. I've been, honestly, just really scared to write. I keep opening my documents and getting intimidated and closing it all again. Or like writing 4 words and feeling exhausted. I don't know what's wrong with me.
> 
> Anyway, all that to say this: I'm working my way out of that mind set and trying to remind myself that my writing isn't as bad as I think it is. And to prove that point to myself, I didn't even proofread this one. So I'm sorry if it's sub-par, or has more mistakes than normal. I just can't... I currently can't sit down and reread this stuff and put more effort into editing and rewriting. I don't have the energy right now for it.
> 
> But! I'm working on it! I'm trying my hardest. Because regardless of everything else this is a story I love and a story I desperately want to tell. I'm so sick and tired of getting discouraged 3/4 of the way through big projects and giving up on them. I'm so tired of making these stories in my head and never actually following through and actually telling them. I'm just tired in general of letting myself down.
> 
> So no matter how long this takes, this story //will// get finished. It might be bare for a while. I have no idea if I'll ever be able to work on a posting schedule again. But I'm going to finish this.
> 
> ................. and also probably delete this whole text block later.
> 
> Thanks for reading if you read this far! Sorry for venting so much on a fanfic of all things.
> 
> Stay awesome.


	68. Pretty Sure there's Subliminal Messaging here but I'm no Expert in Dream Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's some cryptic stuff going on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm gonna try to list off all the fanart I've missed over the past uh... 3 or so months. So! If I've missed you, it's because I have no system of organization whatsoever. Please please **please** yell at me if I've missed you ahaha. I'm going off of memory here mostly.
> 
> Anyway! Let's begin.
> 
> [First up is theninjamouse with the first real reunion scene Grillby and Gaster get the poor boys.](http://theninjawrites.tumblr.com/post/160371105657/couldcould-i-have-saved-her-i-cant-wait)
> 
> [Next up is Anchestor with an adorable comic seriously read it ahaha.](https://anchestor.tumblr.com/post/160545594933/a-daring-escape-very-much-based-on-this-also-im)
> 
> [A second one from Anchestor from much earlier on in the story that turned out beautiful!](https://the3ss.deviantart.com/art/It-wasn-t-any-single-colour-687560666)
> 
> And I thiiiiiiiiiiiink thaaaaaaat's iiiiiiiiiit............? This feels wrong. I definitely feel like I'm missing things.  
> Please tell me if I'm missing things.
> 
> Anyway! Thank you guys for the stuff you've made! Seriously it brightens my day to see it, and to read your descriptions and comments and things. I just... yeah

That night Grillby dreamed for what seemed like the first time in ages. He knew he was dreaming as soon as the images formed in his conscious, which was a strange sensation he’d never really noticed before. Standing in the space around him, everything felt equal parts real and impossible.

He didn’t dream of rain, or rivers or water. He didn’t even dream of mages. For the longest time, he seemed to dream of nothing. Grillby just stood in a world of solid and impossible black. The light of his flame glinted off of nothing, feeling very much like he was both blind and able to see forever. If forever was nothing. There was a feeling as well, something like shifting movement. But the more he stared at the world around him the more _convinced_ he grew that there was nothing there. It was just blackness and the feeling of swaying, like vertigo twisting in his soul. But the darkness felt _alive_ and _moving_ even if he couldn’t rightly see it, and it was disconcerting.

He scanned what should have been horizon and saw nothing.

He brightened himself and noticed no change in the color of the world around him.

He spun on his heel to look behind him.

And he saw a child.

A human child.

And he recognized them… but he didn’t know from where.

They were small and thin, practically swimming in their overly baggy clothes. Their cheeks were sallow, their skin weirdly pale. Every aspect of their being seemed to be gaunt and pathetic and ashen. They looked ill. They looked _skeletal_ , and that realization sent a soft ripple of surprise through Grillby’s waking conscious - though whatever aspect of himself was in the dream remained unsurprised. He was used to seeing _skeletal_. His best friend was the word incarnate. But on a creature Grillby _knew_ shouldn’t look this way? It was unnatural and strange and anxious. It was sickening. It was terrifying.

And it was strange to Grillby that he could look at this creature that was supposed to be so full, and strong, and be scared of it when it looked so thin and fragile. And he _was_ scared, both in his dream and in the parts of him that recognized he was dreaming. In his dream he flinched back a step, and his flame rippled in nervous color, and he shivered. He shivered and cold twisted in his gut as if he were running under rain. He could _feel it_ , and feel it _intensely_. Pinpricks running up his arms and over his shoulders. Cold that clasped at his neck and turned his quickened breaths to steam. And in the void he stood in, he could feel an overwhelming force - some oppressive sense of emotion. Something that wanted to rend and tear, something that wanted to subdue. Like a thousand voices praying for snow.

But out of all the feelings, and the shivers he felt running up his spine, he felt nothing from the child.

They simply watched him, a spark like magic behind their pallid eyes, and they asked him;

“Do you think you’re above consequences?”

The question was casual and pleasant, like someone asking the weather. The tone hid nothing. No malice or angry intent. It was innocent and neat and small. But Grillby couldn’t answer. Whatever feeling of cold that came from the nothing around him stopped him from answering. He shivered too much, his very breath shaking. He was so sure he was _freezing_ but it showed in no way in his flame. He still burned brightly, and _brightened_ as he tried to stave off the feeling of creeping cold, but it did _nothing_.

And the child did nothing other than watch him. His flame lit up their face, accenting every harsh line of bone beneath their skin. The shadows across their body deepened, twisting everything about them into something horrific. It terrified Grillby. He wanted to look away from them. He wanted to run but he _couldn’t move_. He felt like he’d been frozen solid, turned to stone. But he _wasn’t_. He was burning bright and white hot and shivering uncontrollably regardless. His core prickled, his _soul_ shuddered. He just felt inescapably _cold_.

In the brightness of his own light, he noticed one last thing. Past the child, at the wall of darkness. All this time he’d been brightening, he realized slowly that it had been brightening as well. Slowly, barely, creeping from the absolute black to something closer to an inky grey. And now he could make out contours and shapes and… movement. The sense of vertigo he’d felt before had been from the darkness, a _sense_ rather than a _sight_ that it was all moving. All _writhing_.

The child spoke again.

“Was there really no other way?”

 _They were hands_. _Arms and hands_.

All clasped together, clutching and holding onto each other but somehow still fluid enough to undulate like the underside of a wave. They were everywhere, all around him. Not a void of darkness but an all-encompassing sphere of entwined arms and hands, all grey-black and moving and very much _alive_. He could hardly tell where one started and another ended, or how they could wriggle together like some impossibly living braid. But like their own consciousness, their own self, they noticed him when he noticed them and they sprung to life. They swept past the child harmlessly, reaching for him in every direction, and they stung like ice when the first pair of them grabbed his shoulders.

“Do you think you deserve this?”

 

Grillby jolted against the feeling of those hands - that first pair that had reach him - clasped gently on his shoulders. Suddenly Grillby was very much awake, and very much _aware_ , and staring up into the confused and worried gaze of his friend.

“Grillby?” Gaster mumbled tiredly, “You okay?”

For a few seconds, all Grillby could really do was just lay there and breathe - and shiver. He was still shivering. Not nearly as intensely as when he’d been dreaming, but he still felt _cold_. There was a gentle prickling against his core, an uncomfortable feeling settled deep in his chest. Like drizzle was falling on him… but without the rain. He was under a tent. He could _feel_ the air around him was warm.

But he still felt _cold_.

“Grillby?” Gaster asked, this time a bit more insistently as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Yeah… yeah I’m fine,” the elemental finally managed to answer, hoping the uncertainty in his voice sounded less like nerves and more like sleep.

“You were shaking like crazy,” now Gaster _did_ sound worried, waking up enough to really wonder what was going on, “Were you having a nightmare or...?”

Grillby sat up slowly and gave a hearty shiver, sending sparks flying away from him. He was confused a tired, and down-to-his-soul uncomfortable.

“Grillby?”

The elemental shook his head, stifling another shiver as he did, “Yeah I’m fine. Just cold.”

“You’re _cold?”_

Grillby stood shakily, managing to get in a good stretch before another soft shiver forced him to retract his limbs. _Gods_ it felt weird. It didn’t _hurt_. It was just uncomfortable. Like a chill wind was blowing on him, slowly creeping his flame lower. But his flame wasn’t _low_ , or dim or cooling. He was bright colors of yellow and orange, lilting closer to white as he tried to warm himself to no avail.

“Yeah,” Grillby answered Gaster finally, “I’m just cold.”

The skeleton looked him over for a second, “You’re not sick are you?”

“I can get sick?”

The skeleton shrugged, “I… guess…? Probably...?”

Grillby crossed his arms, a motion he’d seen other monsters do to keep a chill at bay. It didn’t help.

“I… think I’ll go take a walk,” Grillby finally said slowly, “I’m probably just… still tired.”

“Okay,” Gaster yawned, content for now to let the subject be for now, “Take your cloak with you.”

Grillby nodded, scrolling through his inventory, “Will that help?”

Gaster laid back down again muttering, “Helps normal monsters. Might as well try it.”

Grillby couldn’t really argue with that he supposed. He wrapped the cloak around his shoulders, drawing it close as he walked out of the tent. The night was cool, there was a light sheen of frost on the ground. The moon was high though the sky was devoid of all but the brightest stars - a sign of The Wall burning bright on the far edge of the horizon. There were probably a few hours of night left.

Grillby suppressed another shiver and walked until dawn.

He couldn’t seem to get warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fanfiction Appreciation Day guys!   
> Fanfic appreciation day? Fanfic writer appreciation day?
> 
> Happy Fanfic and Author related unofficial holiday day!  
> And also Happy Eclipse Day, for those of us in America who got to see it.  
> My boss at work today managed to snag some glasses and filters before they ran out on campus, so I got to see a pretty awesome 90% eclipse. Not as spooky as a 100%, but still pretty darn cool!
> 
> I'd like to take this time to thank you guys as well. The outpouring of comments and support after last chapter honestly swept me off my feet. I can't tell you how many hours I spent rereading them - especially whenever I was feeling down about my work. It's so nice and reassuring. I seriously can't thank you guys enough.
> 
> I'd also like to announce now that things are about to get crazy for me. School started back this week, and I /just/ got a second job. I'm working as a communications/dispatch person at a hospital. Gonna be intense - and I get the night shift! So.... I dunno. This is where I'd normally tell you all that I can't guarantee an update schedule but... I have been pretty lackluster on consistency for the past year.
> 
> So I guess instead I'll say thanks for the support! I'll be working on this as much as I'm able from behind the scenes! And I'll see ya next time.


	69. hhhhhhhhh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it took the author way to long to write 2040 words or some obscenely short number and they're incredibly sorry for that.
> 
> Also in which we discuss some things and Ruke tries not to be a jerk kind of? We really don't know what he's getting at at this point.

By the time dawn bloomed once more, Grillby had managed a handful of laps around camp with little success in warming himself. He felt miserable, shivering against his will every few moments. He was starting to feel a new sort of admiration for all the monsters who had been chilled all winter while he waltzed around in his normally self-assured warmth.

Grillby hoped he wasn't getting sick - gods knew that was the last thing he needed.

Honestly he still wasn't sure he could even get sick.

As he meandered about camp, he managed to pick up some things for breakfast. The pickings were a little slim - and had been for a while now. He was convinced he could cook up something better than the bland mush the mess tent was constantly brewing though, and after a few floundering efforts over the campfire that morning managed to prove himself partly right. It was hard working though with only the scattered, dried and preserved remains of meats and scraps of vegetables. Winter took a toll on their supplies. Greens were few and far in between, or of the hardy winter root variety that never seemed to have a flavor, and any fresh hunting was scattered either from snow or the ruckus a camp of hundreds of monsters could whip up.

What ended up saving the meager breakfast was what remained of Grillby's spice box - and he flickered in quiet melancholy when he used it. He had to admit, when Gerson and his unit had given him the little box, Grillby hadn't expected it to last so long, or to come in so handy. A lot of good meals were cooked with this. A lot of laughs around campfires and murmurs of thanks for hearty meals that filled stomachs and warmed souls. A lot of misery had been made a little less because of this little box.

Grillby's fond thoughts were cut off as he stifled a shiver, and he scowled. Gods what was wrong with him?

As he rolled the little box around in his hands and waited on breakfast to cook, a shifting package tumbled into his hands. Grillby smiled, frowned as he shivered, and somewhat ruefully smiled again. It was the little crumbling bundle of dried rosemary Gaster had given him when he'd first started having nightmares. The elemental wondered idly if he shouldn't try sleeping with it for once, instead of squirreling it away into his inventory.

Grillby shivered again, though this time from more than just the chill he'd been stuck with.

That dream had been nothing like any he'd ever had before, and it still clung to the back of his mind like a stiff fog at morning. It was so surreal and different. But somehow still so much worse than the dreams he'd had before. He could remember that child's pallid gaze watching him, quiet, sad and judgmental.

_ "Do you think you're above consequences?" _

Grillby shuddered again and wrapped his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders. 

The sound of shuffling tent canvas behind him broke the relative stillness of the morning, and Grillby bloomed in the soft yellows of a tired smile as Gaster shuffled into view. The skeleton yawned and stretched, various joints and bones popping and creaking as he did so. Gaster sunk to the ground by Grillby's side, where he curled his legs close to his chest and pillowed his arms neatly on top of them. He rubbed his face tiredly, blinking blearily at the fire just as the pot simmered to a boil.

"Good morning," Grillby hummed a little more cheerfully than he felt, his voice tense with another stifled shiver. Gaster seemed too tired to really notice. He moved a hand in what Grillby could recognize as a half hearted sign - something that looked a bit like  _ morning  _ if he squinted at it right - before the skeleton let the lights in his eye sockets blink out as he slipped back into a doze. Grillby smiled mildly, he couldn't blame him. Two days of rest and Gaster still looked exhausted.

Grillby didn't know much about healing and souls, but he knew how exhausted he was after the rainstorm, how that weariness carried with him for weeks. And Gaster's ordeal seemed to have been so much worse than anything Grillby could fathom. This was an exhaustion that would carry for weeks, or maybe months or more.

_ That was a sobering thought. _

Grillby was caught off-guard by another shiver, hunching his shoulders up against the uncomfortable ripple as it crawled across his core. He huffed out a sigh of smoke,  _ gods that was getting old fast. _

"Feeling alright, commander?"

Grillby gave a start and turned to look over his shoulder. Ruke was standing a few steps behind him, some report of something or another clutched in their front talons. Grillby paused.  _ Should  _ he tell Ruke about his random shivering? He didn't  _ want  _ to. Gods knew what they would read into it. But Ruke  _ was  _ there to keep him in check and, in some ways, make sure he was alright.

"Just cold," Grillby explained as casually as he could manage. Not casually enough though. Ruke's feathers ruffled a bit, eyes squinting in something that looked like suspicion on another monster, but Grillby was choosing to interpret as concern.

" _ You?  _ Cold?" Ruke asked, voice lilting into a sarcastic, incredulous tone, "All winter long of frosts and snows, and it's the breaking of spring that gives you a chill?”

“You’re still shivering?” Gaster asked though a half-yawn that ruined his worried look.

“I’m… fine I’m sure,” Grillby hummed, trying to sound sure of himself, “I mean… I’ve been cold before.”

“Only in the rain,” Gaster pointed out. Grillby shrugged helplessly.

Ruke leaned away from the elemental slightly, a look of disgust curling across his face, “You’re not sick are you?”

“I don’t  _ think  _ so?”

Oh  _ gods  _ this was exasperating. If Grillby could sink through the ground, he was sure he would. There was Ruke towering on one side of him - glowering - their face a puzzled scowl, and Gaster watching him with worried contemplation. He didn’t like being scrutinized like this, especially over something so weird and out of his control.

He felt very much like a lot of fuss was being made over nothing, as well.

_ It was just a cold chill. _

Grillby shivered.

“Did the walk not help?” Gaster asked, “Or your cloak?”

“Why would walking help?” Ruke chirped disdainfully.

“I mean… it helps other monsters,” Gaster shrugged, “Get’s your magic moving. Warms you up.”

Ruke raised a feathery eyebrow at Gaster, “Really?”

“Oh  _ come on _ ,” the skeleton signed with an exasperated flair, “You can’t tell me you’ve never moved around to get warm.”

“I’m an ice monster,” Ruke deadpanned in such a way that it almost made Grillby chuckle, “I have no sense of cold.”

Gaster moved his hands in a half thought, mouth open to say something, and then swallowed whatever comment he was going to say before he could say it.

“That’s fair,” Gaster settled on finally, and then added a bit more begrudgingly, “It helps other monsters, though.”

Ruke shrugged.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Grillby said as reassuringly as he could manage - more to Gaster than to Ruke, “I’ve used a lot of magic recently. And we did a lot of splashing around in the river yesterday-”

“ _ You did what?”  _ Ruke interjected. Grillby ignored them with a weary sort of smile.

“I’m sure I’m just… shaken up.”

Gaster sighed contemplatively, his hands twitching with worry as he signed, “Maybe… but I checked your soul yesterday, firefly. If you were just tired, I would’ve seen it.”

“You’ve been stuck in a human camp all winter,” Ruke pointed out, and Grillby felt himself tense defensively, “Perhaps you’ve lost your touch?”

“Do you have  _ any  _ tact whatsoever?” Grillby snapped, rounding to glare at the unpleasant bird monster. Ruke’s startled back a step at the sudden movement, feathers splaying. They sputtered awkwardly and indignantly through the partial beginnings of a couple sentences, but before they could figure out whatever it was they were trying to say, Gaster spoke. He spoke forlornly, fidgeting quietly with his hands.

“No no, they’re right,” he hummed through a sigh, “I haven’t done much work as a doctor lately. It’s… very likely I’ve missed something.”

He signed a short and quick  _ sorry  _ in Grillby’s direction, and the flame elemental huffed and signed a sloppy  _ you’re fine _ back. Or at least, that’s what he  _ hoped  _ he’d signed. He was… still pretty rusty with the hand-speak.

If Ruke noticed the interaction, they made no move to acknowledge it. Instead they chirped a few thoughtful hums through their beak. Honestly it made Grillby cringe a little. Why had Ruke taken the sudden interest anyway? He’d expected the bird monster to make a few more degrading comments and move on by now, not actually sit here and have a conversation. Or try to riddle out what was going on. 

Or try to help.

Grillby narrowed his eyes in the bird monster’s direction,  _ were they trying to help? _

“Well elementals do have a bit more magic to toss around,” Ruke said finally, tilting his head in Gaster’s direction, “Perhaps if moving around really  _ would  _ help, he just wasn’t moving enough.”

“I walked three laps around camp,” Grillby said flatly.

Ruke ruffled their feathers in a shrug and said somewhat condescendingly, “What’s wandering in  _ circles  _ to a monster who can raze a fortress?”

Grillby opened his mouth to protest and was forced to shut it again. Well… he supposed Ruke had a point… if it actually worked like that. He honestly had no idea how normal monster bodies worked - and Ruke didn’t really either. The elemental tilted his head in Gaster’s direction.

“It’s uhh… worth a shot I guess,” the skeleton mumbled, sounding unsure.

Grillby sighed out another breath of smoke, stifled a shiver and stood. He cast a rueful sort of gaze in Gaster’s direction and smiled.

“It’s going to look so weird with me just running randomly around the camp though.”

“You could always - oh what is that thing you do?” Ruke hummed, moving one of their forelegs as they spoke as if they could catch the word they were looking for, “Your play fighting.”

“ _ Sparring? _ ” Grillby flickered half to himself, “Well yeah, there’s that.”

Ruke flashed a smug sort of smile that could almost look triumphant, “It’s a bit more practical than running in circles all day. Perhaps Gravin’s around here somewhere -”

“ _ No _ ,” Grillby snapped, a bit too quickly, and gleaning a suspicious eyebrow raise from Ruke, “I mean uh… it’s not really… he probably shouldn’t. With the whole… outpost… debacle… still fresh.”

Now it was Gaster’s turn to flash a questioning look.

“Well,” Ruke sighed with a ruffle of his feathers, “I could spar with you.”

“I thought the point of this was to make me get  _ warmer _ ,” Grillby sparked a dry laugh, that shuddered when another shiver ran through him, “Besides, you don’t spar like a normal monster.”

_ You just get angry and throw ice everywhere,  _ Grillby thought bitterly.

“I could spar with you,” Gaster piped up, and both Grillby and Ruke swung to face him. The skeleton signed a bit more falteringly, “I mean… we used to spar all the time anyway right?”

“Yeah we did,” Grillby said hesitantly, “But… you just got back.”

“You’ll have to be gentle,” Gaster conceded, “But I can still dodge, and throw a little magic around.”

He flashed a rueful sort of smile through gritted teeth, “I’m not completely helpless you know.”

Well now Grillby just felt bad. Of course he didn’t think Gaster was  _ helpless _ . But the skeleton wasn’t  _ whole  _ either. And Grillby had the nagging feeling whenever he looked at him that Gaster might crumble like broken glass as soon as Grillby touched him. Which of course was ridiculous. They’d splashed around just the day before right? It hadn’t been  _ magic  _ but it’d been roughhousing.

Besides, whether it worked or not, it’d be nice to do something with Gaster that they’d used to do. Something  _ normal _ .

“Okay,” Grillby said, flickering a wan smile, “After breakfast then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are ya'll sick and tired of me laying face down on the ground in front of you and apologizing profusely yet? Yes?
> 
> Well too bad I'm doing it again!
> 
> Good news is, though: I survived the semester with limited deductions from my sanity points and might have passed all my classes? Jury's still out on that one.   
> And next chapter things will finally get interesting for you guys again! Which is also good news!
> 
> I'm sorry, I feel bad for popping back in after like 3 months with a chapter full of dialogue.


	70. Catching Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is some tension, and we discover a thing hidden in magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart links pending while I get my act together. Sorry everyone! I swear it hasn't been forgotten!

Breakfast was poor by Grillby’s standards, but not quite as bad as it could have been. Gaster didn’t seem to like it any less than normal, making his usual content comments and signs about how good Grillby’s cooking was - and then sounding a little more regretful when Grillby admitted it was the last of his spices. Ruke listened to them talk quietly, pretending to be interested in whatever reports where in one hand or the bowl of stew they balanced in the other. They tilted their head in interest when Grillby and Gaster talked about cooking, as if they’d never really noticed before that it was something Grillby enjoyed doing. Not that Grillby really blamed them for that. While Gaster had been gone, the elemental only remembered cooking a handful of times.

After a bit of stalling - and shivering on Grillby’s part - they meandered off to one of the training squares in camp, Ruke in tow and starting to feel very much like a nosy chaperone. Grillby felt positively giddy and nervous just on the walk over.

 _He was going to spar with Gaster_.

Honestly… it was hard to keep from grinning, now as they walked. Hard to keep from beaming obnoxiously bright, ecstatic colors and sparking all over the place. Of course, Gaster didn’t seem to notice, a little too caught up in his own thoughts and the weirdness of trying to find one’s way around a camp they didn’t know well. But _Ruke_ noticed, raising a feathery eyebrow at Grillby ever so often, almost teasingly. Like they were watching a child get excited over nothing. Grillby didn’t care. He was sparring with Gaster again. It was such a surreal, happy, stupid thing. Gaster, who he thought he’d never get to spend time with again. Gods, he felt like he just kept tripping over that concept over and over and over again and it made his soul flutter.

Grillby set up the sparring ring for them, marking off a wide boundary square with his flames. They were mostly alone for now, it was early morning and without a pressing need no one wanted to train in the late winter chill. Or perhaps this was an early spring chill at this point? Grillby couldn’t say for sure, he had only seen one spring before. Either way, they only turned a handful of heads as they strode to opposite ends of the sparring square and got ready.

“You remember the rules?” Grillby asked.

Gaster paused and thought a moment, a dry smile on the edge of his teeth. He signed and shouted with an exaggerated sort of flare.

“Oh right! Rule number one, if I throw you into those tents over there I win, right?” Gaster called back, grinning and gesturing somewhere off behind Grillby’s shoulder. The elemental flickered a laugh.

“You try that and see how far it gets you.”

Gaster snorted a chuckle back.

Smiling, Grillby pulled open his inventory and set about equipping everything he normally sparred with. He managed to slip his armor and cape on before a sign from Gaster stopped him. The skeleton let out a laugh that was a little more nervous that Grillby expected.

“Let’s uh… nix the scary armor this time around, okay firefly?” Gaster asked, flashing an apprehensive smile, “I can’t really hurt you anyway, right?”

“Force of habit,” Grillby sparked apologetically back, quickly sliding the armor back into his inventory, “Do _you_ need anything before we get started?”

Gaster shrugged, “Eh… I’ll be fine.”

He muttered something else that Grillby was too far away to hear, but he could make out the signs the skeleton made regardless.

 _Probably not strong enough to dodge with the extra weight anyway_.

Well… that was troubling.

“You _sure_ you’re up for this?” Grillby asked warily, “I can borrow Ruke to spar with instead, honestly.”

Gaster smiled, something muted and almost sad, “Well it’s good to know some things don’t change at least.”

Grillby’s flame lilted into curious blues tinged in green, “What…?”

The skeleton’s smile bled into a grin, “I promise I won’t shatter into a thousand pieces firefly. Not even a hundred. Now quit stalling.”

Grillby chuckled, “ _I’m_ stalling? You’re the one who always started-”

_Ping!_

Grillby was yanked roughly to the side. It was a light tug, the blue magic wrapping around his soul gentle and shaking, feeling to remember how much strength was needed. The second pull was more forceful, and instead of just sending Grillby staggering, the elemental was lifted completely off his feet and thrown tumbling into the dirt of the training square. He braced himself against the fall, taking the fall on his arms and managing to scramble back to his feet. Fire warped the air as Grillby prepared to retaliate. Out of the corner of his eye, the elemental caught a glance of Ruke looking nothing short of impressed.

He’d remembered feeling the same way the first time he’d sparred with Gaster.

Grillby sighed out a breath of smoke and with it he fired a small volley of his fiery lances back, forcing Gaster to drop the blue magic and dodge. The skeleton started, tensed - and then frowned. With an unamused scowl in Grillby’s direction he side-stepped out of the way of a single lance and watched the rest fall wide.

“ _C’mon_ Grillby.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Grillby flickered an apologetic smile, “I’m just making sure-”

Grillby felt his soul sink heavy with blue again and he was ripped off his feet and sent sliding. Gaster nearly pushed him outside the sparring boundary, but pulled up short at the last second. Grillby didn’t bother waiting until he was back on his feet again to fire back. He sent a pinwheel of flame dancing in Gaster’s direction. One fast enough for the skeleton to have to dodge earnestly.

As Grillby got to his feet he shivered.

Reluctantly they swung into motion again - Grillby trying to pull his punches as subtly as possible while Gaster stumbled his way into his old routine. It was… strange though, Grillby noticed. Everything about Gaster was just slightly weaker, a little slow and weird to respond because of the months without practice and the ordeal the skeleton had gone through, which was why Grillby insisted on keeping his attacks slower and weaker despite Gaster’s protests and scowls. But… Gaster was still _strong_ , surprisingly so, for a monster who’d spent the winter in captivity, weak and helpless at the hands of humans. His attacks were firm, full of intent and weight. They battered Grillby about, made him stumble and stagger. Blue magic tossed him around with relative ease, disks of bone met his lances with the regular explosive results. Gaster’s aim faltered a bit, he missed a little wider at times when normally he wouldn’t. But otherwise… he seemed… _normal_. Like somehow his soul had remembered something it should have forgotten, managed to stay strong where it should have been weak.

For a monster who’d had to be carried away from his captors hardly more than a week and a half ago, Gaster was _amazing_ and it made Grillby hopeful. Gaster at least seemed to enjoy it - when he wasn’t hounding Grillby about his coddling. He seemed to revel in the feeling of competence and power that came from doing something he knew he could do well. Grillby could feel the pride and relief radiating off the skeleton as warm as sunlight, see it in the twitch of his hand and the clench of his teeth. For every dodge, sometimes stumbling but always _enough_. For every burst of flame negated by patterns of bones. For every moment he made Grillby stagger, or fluster, Gaster was _glad_. And exasperated too, that Grillby still consistently kept his attacks slower and weaker. But his teasing and dares for Grillby to _just spar like normal_ fell mostly on deaf ears. It didn’t matter to Grillby how proficient Gaster _seemed_ to be. He didn’t want the skeleton to overdo it.

And besides all that, it was hard to really concentrate when Grillby was still _cold_.

Grillby shivered, cutting one of his attacks short and nearly stumbling himself into one of Gaster’s. _Gods_ this was annoying, and for all the moving and magic he was throwing around it only seemed to feel _worse_. What had once been a subtle prickle in Grillby’s core was now a crawling sensation that continued even when he wasn’t shivering outright, like goosebumps along his core. But he was an _elemental_. Elementals didn’t get _goosebumps_ … that he knew of. And what’s more, _fire shouldn’t feel cold_. Not unless it was being smothered out anyway, and Grillby definitely wasn’t smothering. He was burning white hot! The round dried beneath his feet with every step he took and every dodge he made.

Another shiver interrupted an attack as he formed it, causing Grillby to stumble uncomfortably into one of Gaster’s volleys of bones. The elemental let out a frustrated growl and stomped a foot on the ground, flickering bitterly.

“This isn’t helping, Gaster,” Grillby called, flailing his arms in a sort of exasperated shrug.

“Of _course_ it’s not,” Gaster snapped back with a sharpness that the elemental hadn’t been expecting. Grillby’s flame curled green in a question, and Gaster signed with exaggerated flair in return.

“The _whole point_ of this firefly was about exerting yourself,” Gaster said with a frown, his voice echoing over the lull in magic, “But your attacks are all half-hearted, you’re using hardly any magic - for _you_ anyway.”

The skeleton sighed, pinching the space between his eye sockets, “At this rate you might as well be walking circles around camp again!”

Grillby gave a startled spark, stuck somewhere between surprised and exasperated at the outburst, “Okay, but didn’t we _just say_ you had to take it easy?”

“Not _this_ easy. For heaven’s sakes Grillby, I’m not made of glass,” Gaster sighed, and his expression softened a bit as he signed, “We’ve got to _at least_ try this to see if it stops your shivering. Come on firefly, let me help you.”

Grillby hesitated, suddenly feeling ashamed, and nervous, and it showed in the color of his flame bitter and green. And when it did, any good humor Gaster could’ve had left disappeared like fire into snow. He scowled, a full body sort of scowl that planted his feet and balled his wiry fingers into fists. Gaster shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes, closing off any more signs from Grillby’s sight.

“ _Fine_ ,” Gaster grumbled, “Maybe you’ll take _this_ seriously then.”

There was a flash and a whine and a rumbling concussion, and Grillby was suddenly wreathed in a flame that wasn’t his - a flame that was loud and white and hot compared to his own, and it screamed at him incomprehensibly in a voice he was too shocked to pay attention to. All he recognized in that first, exasperated blast was that it was distinctly _Gaster_ , and it knocked him off his feet. The magic fizzled out, and Grillby was left glowing pale in its wake. Across from him Gaster stood, feet planted, and body braced, one of his blaster’s fizzling jaws open wide beside him. And he looked… a bit surprised. Grillby had to admit he was too. Since when could Gaster summon those so fast? Normally they took a few seconds to form at least.

Then Gaster shrugged, and three more of the angry jaws snapped open and screamed to life.

Grillby scrambled to his feet but couldn’t return fire fast enough. The first geyser of light and fire nearly staggered him off his feet just as soon as he’d gotten to them. The magic in it slurred a muddled voice, words and syllables slurring together in a smear of thoughts and feeling too quick to catch. But Grillby felt clearly _exhaustion_ , a feeling familiar to the taste of Gaster’s magic as if folded around him. Then the blast was gone again and Grillby was dodging the second and meeting the third with a bright column of flame.

Somewhere in their small audience Grillby heard a smattering of impressed noises. He tried to catch a glance at Ruke out of the corner of his eye but was met with the sound of two more blasters whining to life before he could see them.

A cascade of light wrapped around him again, and this time Grillby was a little more braced for the force behind it. The blast was unable to knock him off his feet - though he stumbled a step. What surprised him though was the _emotion_ behind it. Something writhing and hiding behind the simple mask of exhaustion. Grillby felt worry. Grillby felt _fear_.

The blast died off and Grillby was running. He met a second whine from the blasters with a column of his own flame, and the two jets of magic crashed together and burst in every direction. Sparks flew, heat billowed. Their small crowd grew a bit larger, though many took a few steps back.

Grillby fired a few of his flickering spears in Gaster’s direction before another blaster beam slammed into him, and this time he didn’t falter. But his soul hummed with nervousness, his core tense and crawling with a shiver. The voice of Gaster’s magic, emotional and loud, screamed at him again. Exhaustion. Worry. Concentrated fear. Directed fear, bitter, conscious, conflicting. Grillby _hated it_.

The beam died off with a flickering of white sparks, and the elemental growled out a breath of smoke. He didn’t want that thing to hit him again. He didn’t want to feel it. Grillby stared at Gaster across the arena between them, across the heated area that wrent and writhed and the smoke that contorted and turned his friend into a smear of color. And two more smears of color blinked into life beside Gaster. The first one fired.

Grillby blinked, and he breathed, and he pulled from something at the back of his soul. He reached out with his hands, and with his fire, and he latched on the building burst of magic as it jet towards him.

And with a shout and a yank of his arm, Grillby _pulled_ , and the flame of the blaster parted on each side of him.

There was a breath where Grillby and Gaster’s eyes met, Gaster’s whole face stuck in some expression between shock and awe. His second blaster whined to life.

Grillby reached out again, with magic and a splayed hand, and the blaster didn’t fire.

Gaster turned to face the shivering attack, maw open and the magic white fire burning deep in it’s barley formed throat. It sparked and shivered and smoked, the flame snaked through jagged teeth and seared the air. _But it didn’t fire._

Grillby was panting, and something in the back of his mind felt dazed. It had taken a force of will he’d hardly known he had to steal the fire in Gaster’s attack. A force of will he hadn’t used in a _while_. It made his core shiver, it made his soul pulse, it pulled his flame in excited yellows and whites and sent smoke from his breath in heaves. But he felt determined, and a bubbling, warm triumph in his gut.

And he didn’t shiver.

When he looked at Gaster, Grillby saw every bit of that worry and fear he’d felt in the blaster’s magic reflected in his friend’s face. With a spark Grillby realized -

Gaster was scared

_Of him_

His grip slipped on the blaster and it fired, harsh and quick and surprising. It slammed Grillby off his feet, sent him sprawling - right outside of the sparring circle. Grillby found himself sprawled out on the ground, staring at a picture of the sky he hadn’t been expecting to see, all clear blues and cloudy whites, with a tinge of smoke on the horizon far to one side. The Wall, probably. It took him a second or two to realize the roaring he was hearing was cheers.

And then Gaster was there, helping him to his feet, looking worried and apologetic. Grillby let himself be helped, and when he was standing he blinked at the skeleton in silence, utterly speechless. He didn’t know what to say or where to start. He didn’t know what to bring up _now_ or what to wait until later.

Finally he settled on, “You won.”

Gaster laughed, a jittery and nervous sound that wilted past his teeth and he signed bashfully, “Yeah I… _really_ wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t mean-”

“Commander that was fantastic!” a piping voice cut Gaster off, and Grillby flickered a wan smile at the group of monsters that approached them. It was a handful of his unit, followed behind closely by Ruke. Grillby noted with a bit of pride that the bird monster looked impressed, glancing Gaster over as if they were seeing him in a new light.

“Is that what sparring with you _really_ looks like?” one them said, laughing, “Gods, we never did stand a chance, did we?”

Gaster raised the ridge above his eye socket, and Grillby shrugged, “They didn’t want to train the first day we got started so I set up a spar as a wager.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, and I _knew_ it was rigged!” it was the cat monster he’d sparred with first those months ago, but she beamed happily as she spoke, “No monster can hold their own against an elemental! Except for you sir, apparently.”

Gaster winced a nervous laugh, “We’ve been sparring for a while-”

“No, really, that was quite an accomplishment,” Ruke interjected, giving a nod of approval, “I must admit I had misgivings when you’d offered to spar. Grillby’s fire can be quite unyielding, even to bone, as we’ve seen before.”

Grillby watched one of the monsters from his unit shift a bit uncomfortably, remembering the event at the outpost. Gaster glanced in the elemental’s direction, confused, half a question twitching it’s way through an unfinished sign. But Ruke was continuing before it could be dwelled on.

“And you weakened as you are, honestly. It would be interesting to see how you work when you’re more recovered.”

“Ah well, most of my working has to do with medical tents from here on out, I think,” Gaster signed with an uncertain sort of smile, “I don’t think I’ve got it in me to do any real fighting anymore. My soul’s not really… made for it.”

Gaster elbowed Grillby in the side, recovering a bit of enthusiasm, “I’m always up to knock this firefly around a bit though. Keep his ego in check.”

“I don’t have an ego,” Grillby frowned.

“You’ve got something all right,” Gaster said, and the tone in his voice hid something that Grillby… couldn’t quite place.

“And I suppose you deserve some commending as well,” Ruke continued, tilting their head in Grillby’s direction, “That was some finer work of yours as well.”

“I’m sorry, Gaster must have hit me harder than I thought he did,” Grillby said with a dry smirk, “I _must_ have heard you wrong.”

“Wh-?”

“Since when do _you_ compliment _elementals_ , Ruke?” Grillby asked, sparking in amusement. There was a smattering of laughs from the few monsters in Grillby’s unit standing around. Ruke flashed him a hearty glare. Grillby could feel the drop in temperature, and it made him chuckle. He turned to smirk at Gaster - only to find the skeleton wasn’t there. Grillby frowned and looked around, managing to spin on his heel and catch a glimpse of the skeleton vanishing into the dispersing crowd. Grillby’s flame turned a prompt, disheartened red, lilting just barely into purple.

Ruke let out a bemused sort of chirp through their clenched beak, “Huh, and off like a ghost.”

A bit more to Grillby they added, “He’s quiet when he wants to be.”

Grillby sighed and murmured, “... only when he’s worried.”

Ruke ruffled their feathers, chiming noncommittally as they turned to strut away, “I’d say he’s worried often then.”

 

Grillby shivered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /insert obligatory joke about not having posted a chapter since last year/
> 
> This is the first chapter that's been over 3000 words in literally months, which isn't saying much since we've only had like 4 chapters all year but you know, little victories.  
> Little victory number two is that I've managed to complete a chapter within a month of the previous one being posted. Heck. Yes.
> 
> Anyway uhhhh.... happy belated New Year everyone! I'd been /really/ hoping to get this out in time for New Years but didn't manage to get my act together in time. Speaking of getting my act together! I realize there's a lot of fan art for this silly story that I haven't linked in awhile and that's completely my fault. I'm always just so relieved that I've made a chapter finally that I just... I dunno... post in a hurry instead of doing the limited research needed to find links. If you think your piece has been missed or I haven't seen it, or you know of someone else's that's been made in the past year that you don't remember seeing linked, please throw the link my way! Same goes for when I start linking things again! If I ever miss you then throw an arm flail in my direction!
> 
> Uh.... I think... that's it as far as house keeping goes. A new school semester is starting next week and I'm terrified ahaha. I'm already late on payments //sweats nervously//. And I'm an older bean than when you all last heard from me. My birthday has come and gone in the past couple weeks! I'm a 23 year old weirdo now.
> 
> Stay awesome guys, thank you for your patience, and keep your fingers crossed I stay on top of writing these! I'm trying my darndest to dedicate more time to writing than I have been, and getting back into the swing of things. We'll see where the road takes us from here!


	71. Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is some breaking down, in more ways than one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fffffffffffffanart feature for the first time in ages because I kept promising I'd get my act together and finally I have! I apologize because this is going to be more... list-ish. Normally I like to say nice things for every one. But I'm really far behind and I don't want to sound repetitive when I talk about this stuff. Because honestly these things mean the world to me and I can't thank any of you guys enough for the wonderful things you've drawn. I just -- okay.
> 
> Here be the things I've missed! Check all of them out! They're amazing!
> 
> Deviantart list because it's the shortest:
> 
> There's a coolios render by [ Sekiro on Deviantart](https://sekiro.deviantart.com/art/Grillby-and-Gaster-from-Casting-Rain-732402915) that makes the boys look like they just walked out of Skyrim or something. Honestly it's great!
> 
> Kakurosu back again with [ that scene of Grillby and Gaster catching up by the river](https://kakurosu.deviantart.com/art/Casting-Rain-Chapter-67-716542632) and wowing us with colored pencils!
> 
> The fantastic Loumun-Versen back with [ and animation???](https://loumun-versen.deviantart.com/art/UT-Crueler-world-700531335) Holy cheese and crackers??? Heck me??? And I believe the first drawing of Ruke ever? Don't hold me to that I could be wrong. I'm probably wrong. Guys, I have the memory of a dying goldfish.
> 
> Now for Tumblr!
> 
> Drawing-intherain decided to shower on me a rain of love and amazingness that words can't describe. Here's the links to all the amazing things they've drawn here:
> 
> http://silverskye13.tumblr.com/post/169779283957/drawing-intherain-sketch-dump-just-in-case-you
> 
> http://silverskye13.tumblr.com/post/168988102447/drawing-intherain-hey-silverskye13-happy
> 
> http://silverskye13.tumblr.com/post/167615132642/drawing-intherain-silverskye13
> 
>  
> 
> http://silverskye13.tumblr.com/post/167615026852/drawing-intherain-i-know-it-s-been-over-a-week
> 
>  
> 
> Dork-Dorki-Universe compiled a bunch of [ adorable sketches](http://silverskye13.tumblr.com/post/168987914932/dorki-dorki-universe-all-my-casting-rain) of a dozen scenes from CR, all of them amazing! (and some with Ruke, proving instantly how terrible my memory is).
> 
> Loumun-Versen again but this time on Tumblr (because enough time has passed since I've done this for them to get a Tumblr) of [ Amathea and Thetis](http://silverskye13.tumblr.com/post/165162395547/loumun-versen-and-last-picture-of-my-au-series) being awesome dorks together
> 
> //loud gasp of breath//  
> And I thiiiiiiink that is everyone? Hooooo that was a lot! Thank you guys again for all the amazing things you've done! Seriously words cannot describe, and I'm sorry I took so long in linking everything!  
> If I have missed you, please, by all means, throw something at me! Your art deserves to be seen!
> 
> And now -- on with the chapter!!

It felt like forever before Grillby could finally disentangle himself from his enthusiastic unit, and even longer before the elemental could sort through his whirling thoughts. Through all of it his emotions writhed around in his gut, seething, tinting his flame in greens and yellows, making him look as sick as he felt.

_So, Gaster was scared of him_.

But… why? It didn’t make any sense! It made so little sense in fact that Grillby had to question if he’d really felt in Gaster’s magic what he thought he’d felt, or if he was just blowing things out of proportion. _Surely_ Gaster wasn’t scared of him, _him_. They were _friends_. They’d been through _everything_ together. Grillby would trust Gaster with his life! And surely he’d saved Gaster from enough for the skeleton to feel the same way, right? Just yesterday they were roughhousing and playing around, they’d been inseparable ever since they’d found each other again. And _sure_ Gaster got sort of… tense and… distant… sometimes… but, but who _wouldn’t_ after everything Gaster had just gotten back from? Maybe Gaster was just scared in general? That would make sense wouldn’t it? Maybe he wasn’t scared of _Grillby specifically_. That _had_ to be it.

Except.

That look Gaster had given him, right there at the end of their spar. That hadn’t been very _general_. That look had been fairly specific, very much pointed _right at Grillby_.

The elemental heaved a bitter, smoke-filled sigh, and then he shivered, and then he sighed again.

Grillby was beside himself. _Absolutely_ beside himself. But whether it was anger or frustration or just because he was _him_ and didn’t know how to handle anything, he didn’t know. All he knew was he was _upset_ and so was Gaster, and he had no idea what to do about it.   _Gaster_. His _friend_ Gaster. The monster who _used_ to be Gaster but now just seemed like a fidgety, flighty, _estranged_ shadow of the monster Grillby had become friends with. Someone confusing and weird and different and _terrifying_ in his distance and quietness. A monster who one moment could be filled with concern and hope for Grillby and at the next…

… and at the next be scared of him.

And that… hurt.

And it was confusing.

And Grillby didn’t know what to do.

 It tasted like failure, and tinted his flame in cool, defeated reds. What did he do? What did he say?

_Why?_

Everything was supposed to be normal. Everything was supposed to be…

What even _was_ normal anyway? Maybe he should stop fixating on it, he thought bitterly. It’s not like _he_ knew what normal was. He’d only been alive for a year. For all he knew, this _was_ normal. When he was first summoned there had sure been enough monsters afraid of him. When he’d first met Brigg’s unit. His entire existence was peppered with intimidated glances in his direction and nervous magic and protocols to keep him in check.

But never from Gaster. But _never_ from Gaster. Gaster had always been so curious and enthusiastic and so _painfully naive_ about the whole mess that came with Grillby being an elemental. He’d taken everything Grillby said or did in stride. He’d only ever flinched when Grillby had told him to, and even then just barely. No, _fear_ was not something Grillby had _ever expected_ to feel from Gaster. Not at _him_. Not at anything involving Grillby.

_Gods_. He wished for the life of him that he had someone to ask for advice. He wished so hard there was _someone_ who could give him a hand or a list of things to do next. He wished there was someone who could intervene and speak for him where Grillby was _sure_ he was going to ruin things

… He wished Ammy was here. Ammy would know what to do. She _always_ knew. But Amathea _wasn’t_ here. Grillby was on his own, and Grillby had to deal with this on his own.

Which meant he should probably stop hesitating outside the tent and actually walk inside and see if Gaster was there for him to talk to. Grillby shivered again, huffed his annoyance at it, and stepped inside. As soon as Grillby parted the entrance to his tent to step inside, he was met with the steady intensity of Gaster’s stare, wiry arms crossed over his chest and a look of… disappointment? Frustration? It seemed softer than anger and was very possibly the same weird amalgamation of emotions that Grillby could feel curling around in his stomach. Whatever it was, it was nothing short of serious, and there was a weight in the air like magic and unspoken grievance. Grillby sighed out another breath of smoke.

“We need to talk,” Gaster said simply.

“Yeah… I think we do,” Grillby hummed in return, flickering nervously, “Though… maybe someplace a little more… private?”

For a moment Gaster looked confused, and then his expression softened some when he seemed to remember where they were - a tent with canvas walls in the middle of a camp surrounded by other monsters. Grillby at least didn’t want his entre unit overhearing them as they talked - whatever they ended up talking about. Already Grillby was thinking at the conversation ahead and didn’t really know what to say. Already he was wondering if it was worth it to even bother talking. Grillby turned and started walking, thoughts spinning in the back of his mind while the forefront of his attention remained weirdly quiet. Like he was watching a storm brewing, a storm of jumbled half-thoughts, emotions and letters. There was a sinking feeling in his gut.

When they stopped again, they were by the very same river they’d been romping around in yesterday. Grillby could still see the dips in the river stones where their feet had scuffed the ground. Yesterday he’d been _happy_.

Now he felt a bit like throwing up.

It didn’t help that the sun was getting low already, casting reaching shadows through the trees. Grillby didn’t know how the day had managed to pass so quickly. The elemental turned to face his friend. Gaster’s arms were still crossed, fingers twitching, fumbling through a dozen thoughts that he didn’t knew how to say. Grillby sighed out another breath of smoke, stifled another shiver.

“Gaster,” Grillby said, the feeling of anxious nausea building up in his chest, “Are you scared of me?”

All the tiny twitches in Gaster’s hands stopped. He blinked at Grillby, mostly unreadable. Grillby hated that. He _always_ hated it when Gaster went quiet. He _hated_ not knowing what the skeleton was thinking, especially now. _Especially_ now.

“That’s… a complicated question to answer,” Gaster answered after a long pause, the words lingering and stretching across his teeth.

“It shouldn’t be,” came Grillby’s clipped reply.

Gaster gave a helpless, flailing sort of sign, exasperated, “Well it _is_. Everything is different. Everything is overwhelming. _Everything’s changed_. I’m surrounded by monsters I’ve never seen before, Ammy is gone, you’re a commander for heaven’s sakes! I just - what?”

The skeleton’s expression soured into a frown, his sweeping, explaining signs calming into something clipped and defensive, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Honestly Grillby didn’t know what his expression was now, just that the light that glinted off the surfaces around him seemed to be glinting in harsh colors. But he knew what he _felt_. He felt gross and miserable, and his stomach was a single constant knot. He felt angry, and he felt _wrong_. His throat hurt and he shivered.

“You’re lying to me.”

Gaster blinked at him.

“ _Why_ are you _lying_ to me?”

“I’m not-”

“ _Yes you are,”_ Grillby snapped, flickering harsh and bright. Gaster flinched away from him when he did, and Grillby felt nearly sick with a mess of emotions. A mess of angry and disappointed and he shivered again, “I felt it in your magic during the spar, why-”

“You felt-?”

_“Why are you scared of me?”_

Gaster gave a massive sign with his hands, maybe exasperation, maybe because he felt like he was being backed into a corner.

“Because you’re _terrifying_ Grillby!” The skeleton said sharply in reply, “Gods above - _everything about you_ is terrifying!”

Gaster huffed out a bitter sigh before signing again quickly, so fast Grillby couldn’t keep up with all the motions, “ _Everything_. Your armor makes you look like some kind of demon, all the colors you burn are always so _angry_. That screaming… _Gehenna_ wall you made - and gods know what Ruke has been filling your head with for _months -_ ”

Grillby tried to stammer a protest at that but Gaster kept going over him, “And since I’ve been gone you’ve what - clawed your way back from falling down? You nearly stole my own magic away from me in our spar - and now I hear about this outpost patrol of yours-”

Finally Grillby managed to interrupt him, stammering past another shiver as he did, “The outpost patrol was _nothing_.”

“You killed _prisoners_ ,” Gaster said shouted, arms flailing wide and eyes colored with incredulous magic, “Humans that had surrendered already, humans that were completely at your _mercy._ ”

Grillby’s chest felt tight, the uncomfortable knot in his stomach pulling itself tighter, “Who told you about that?”

“No one told me, I asked,” Gaster scowled, “After what Ruke said and the way your unit looked afterword. Gods above Grillby, what were you thinking?”

“There was nothing else we could do.”

“There’s _always_ something else you can do!” Gaster snapped, his signs stopping completely so he could ball his fists at his sides, “You’ve spared humans before under worse circumstances! You can’t make that excuse!”

For a long moment the two glared at each other - Gaster beside himself with anger and disappointment and probably a thousand other things Grillby was too dense to really make out on his own. So angry the air crackled with unused intent and riled magic, magic Grillby could taste and feel, magic peppered with fear and bitterness. Magic that hazed the air around them purple and clashed in contrast with the guilty and sickly colors that Grillby’s flame lit across the air. Now in the darkening forest, with sunset cutting across them in sweeping shadows and swaths of color, the uncomfortable slurry of Grillby’s flame seemed to stick to every surface. Greens and blues reflected off the water, reds and purples lilted across darkening trees, but altogether much darker and dimmer than Grillby’s fire normally burned. Seething and nervous and shivering and tense, he burned low.

And he didn’t know what to say. His thoughts had stopped moving ages ago. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to make this situation any better. He hadn’t expected Gaster to say the things he was saying now, or _why_ he was scared, or anything.

Grillby wanted to run away. And he nearly turned away then as another shiver ripped through him. But just as he shifted Gaster spoke again, his whole body tense, his teeth grit in a grimace, his magic seeming almost to curl in on itself. But his hands didn’t move, still clenched in fists at his sides that shook with the effort to remain still.

“You killed Rowan, didn’t you?”

“I have no idea who Rowan is,” Grillby retorted, his voice so low and tense it rumbled through his throat. The speaking hurt more than it had in a long while. The color of his flame danced strange and foreign against the surfaces of the trees.

Gaster sighed so tense it seemed to shake his body, “Rowan was the human who held the barrier.”

Grillby blinked once, and then twice. The human. Who held the barrier. He could hardly remember, and it had been a handful of weeks since they’d been there. The day had been such a rush, a blur of focused intend overshadowed by _Thistle_ , a name that was now stained on his soul he was sure. But he did remember. He remembered a small child barking a greeting, and a look of horror. He remembered the crack that seemed to break the sky. Yes. He knew Rowan.

The recognition must have registered in the color of his flame, because Gaster’s expression shifted to match it. Gone was the tense and heavy anger, now lapsing into something more like grief and disappointment. A heavy second passed between them, slow and filled with the sound of running water. Grillby shivered.

“They were a _child_ ,” Gaster said finally.

“They were a mage,” came Grillby’s clipped answer, and the tenseness crept back into Gaster’s form when he said it. There it was again - fear, like a cornered animal. Grillby was getting sick of seeing it. It made him feel disgusting. It made him feel _wrong_.

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true,” Grillby said forcefully, his flame once again lilting into frustrated colors, “They were casting a spell and it needed to be stopped.”

“You _killed_ a _child_.”

“I had no choice.”

Gaster stuttered out some sound, caught between disdain and disbelief. And then he spat back angrily, his hands a jagged sign that Grillby didn’t bother reading.

“You don’t get to say that,” he _snarled_ , taking a shaky step towards the flickering elemental, angry and afraid, “ _You’re not allowed to say that_. There is _always a choice!_ You’ve _made that choice_ before under worse circumstances!”

Gaster pointed a jagged, bony finger at the creek and Grillby flinched despite himself, “Your back against a raging river and an army pouring over the banks and _you spared them_.”

“That was different,” Grillby said insistently, stubbornly, stifling another shiver.

“Of course it was, it was _harder!”_ Gaster shouted, “You could spare an army and you couldn’t spare a _child!”_

“The army didn’t have a barrier,” Grillby snarled back, smoke billowing with his voice.

“Or the army wasn’t a _mage_ ,” came the hissed return, Gaster taking another threatening step closer, his signs so wild they threatened to hit Grillby once or twice, “What about _Chris?_ She was about their age wasn’t she? What about Eva and Col? _Why did you spare those children_ and not _Rowan?”_

Grillby was shivering again, almost constantly. He felt like just as soon as one faded away another one was wracking through him again, so much he doubted he was just cold. Maybe this was angry, or distraught. But whatever it was, it was _uncomfortable_ , and it seethed his soul with _guilt_. He wanted to leave.

“Because it was different-”

“No!” Gaster shouted, stomping a harsh foot on the ground, “ _You! You_ were different! You actually looked at those poor pathetic children and their parents fleeing for shelter and you had _mercy!_ And suddenly you _can’t_ anymore? It didn’t have to be that way!”

“What would you have had me do differently Gaster?” Grillby snarled, “If I hadn’t done _something_ you’d still be trapped behind a wall!”

“Then maybe you should’ve left me there!”

_Maybe you should’ve left me there._

Grillby couldn’t stop shivering.

He was _so angry_ and he was _guilty_ and he was _wrong_ and he _hated it_. He didn’t _deserve this!_ He was a hero! He’d done his best! He’d rescued his _friend._

_Just run. It’s not worth it._

Something in him was spinning. He registered that, and the fact that Gaster was speaking again. But he wasn’t yelling. The tone in his voice had noticeably shifted. Grillby couldn’t recognize the colors casting around them. It had gotten dark, he noticed.

_Why did you do that?_

Grillby didn’t get it. He just _didn’t get it_. Why did Gaster care? Why did _anyone care?_ They were a human, they were a _mage_. They were the hands of everything bad that had ever happened. They were _death_. And _torture_. And the _only thing Grillby had been summoned to fight_. He didn’t get it. _He didn’t get it_. _Why_.

_I had to save one of you._

They were just a kid. He was just an elemental. This was different. Nothing made sense. He was angry. He was confused. He felt _guilty_.

_This was supposed to be simple._

Suddenly, Grillby was on the ground. He must have tried to run, or maybe he’d lost his balance? Maybe he’d tripped. Regardless, he was on the ground and he was dizzy, and he was _cold_. But he noticed abruptly and, with a bit of surprise, that his shivering had stopped. Gaster was standing over him, his voice sounding a bit like it was underwater, and Grillby’s spinning thoughts seemed just as hazy. There was one thing he noticed though, and he noticed it _vividly_.

The sky was filled with numberless stars.

It had been forever since Grillby had last seen the stars so clearly. Normally the sky was too bright.

Normally, there was a fire on the horizon, blotting them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //crosses fingers the next chapter won't be this hard to write//
> 
> This time on Casting Rain! Something wicked this way comes! Or goes. It's all a matter of perspective really. And we all know how much I love messing around with perspective!
> 
> .... I don't have much to say about this chapter. There was no research. There was only two boys yelling at each other in the woods because things have changed and nobody likes it. 
> 
> See ya'll next chapter!


	72. Is It My Nature To Burn Everything?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything get's worse, if you can believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big big thanks to mylifeforthelore and little-red-gingersnap on Tumblr for beta-ing this for me since I was too jaded to know what was going on anymore!
> 
> And also we have a fanart feature! Which I'm just going to link this time because it's very late and I'm very tired.
> 
> [sekiro on DA](https://sekiro.deviantart.com/art/Amathea-the-Brave-from-Casting-Rain-738496499)
> 
> [ moonshadow 909 on DA ](https://sekiro.deviantart.com/art/Amathea-the-Brave-from-Casting-Rain-738496499)
> 
> [glowingmooncreations on tumblr ](http://silverskye13.tumblr.com/image/171436893837) which i thought i'd linked already but I didn't see so! Here be!
> 
> [vickyhbx on tumblr](http://silverskye13.tumblr.com/post/172865941692/namelessokamiart-so-i-was-reading-silverskye13>namelessokamiart%20on%20tumblr</a>%0A%0A<a%20href=) who i've been lowkey nerding out about over their grillster art for ages so if you haven't seen that before check it out heck
> 
> [Unexpected-profundity on Tumblr](http://silverskye13.tumblr.com/post/173483633852/unexpected-profundity-and-lastly-casting-rain)
> 
> [ Aeris-blue on Tumblr](http://silverskye13.tumblr.com/post/173483698822/aeris-blue-take-3-on-uploading-this-if-it-fails)
> 
> I'm so sorry I can't think properly to say more guys but honestly this is all beautiful and amazing and works can't describe how grateful I am you'd take the time to draw these things for this story. It's an absolute joy getting to see them!

 

What followed was an explosion of action that left Grillby feeling both blindsided and numb. His wall, his impenetrable guard of flame and heat, was gone. It had left a scar black as night across the earth for miles, and in the distance still Grillby fancied he could see it’s smoke. But the flame was gone. Ruke had made sure of it themselves, flying into the horizon until they were nothing but a white-grey smudge in the sky and back again. They’d been confused at first at how Grillby had known the wall was gone, and more impressed than anything when they’d learned Grillby had somehow _felt_ the wall fall.

But there hadn’t been time to discuss it long. Ruke brought more news than just the wall’s disappearance.

Humans were coming. Humans were coming, and a cry of panic and rush flew about the camp. Every monster was woken, scouts were sent, commanders were gathered. And then came a game of waiting like the world was holding its breath for the worst. Waiting for the news of what they were up against. Not that it much mattered. Whatever it was, it had to be insurmountable - _powerful -_ to stop such a goliath wall of flame. Not just a mage, _mages._ Not just an army, _hordes_.

Grillby could already taste the intent in the air like smog in his chest.

It was almost dawn when the first reports started coming back, scattered scouts running in circles and tallying numbers and making estimates. Some of them didn’t come back, leaving Thetis to dispatch the one or two ghosts she could spare for information that was a bit more reliable - and grimmer. The first panicked scouts returning, afraid for their lives, listed hundreds of troops marching forward. The next wave of news was not just soldiers, _calvary_ , with armies slower and more cumbersome filling the horizon after them, and with them came the splashes of lights of spells and magic.

There was fear and nervousness in the air, building just as quickly as the sunlight on the horizon, and Grillby felt it too, in the depths of his soul. He felt it like the itch of a limb lost, and that’s what it nearly was for him too. He felt… absent… now that the wall was gone. Like some buzzing noise in the back of his head he’d grown accustomed to had suddenly gone silent - and took with it his fitful shivering. He supposed that was a good thing, one last distraction to worry about. And he revelled in how it felt to have his body normal again. One day of misery was enough for him to appreciate feeling well.

But… he was still scared. Scared of his argument with Gaster. Scared of what his friend had said. Scared of what was happening. Scared of anything powerful enough to break down his wall in a day. Gehenna, or whatever Gaster called it. Scared that if he’d _just known_ what his shivering had been about he could’ve stopped the wall from falling and he _hadn’t_ known. Scared this was somehow all his fault. Scared a lot of things were his fault.

There was a lot to be afraid of.

And as Thetis jabbed and elbowed her way through pacing nervous monsters to where Grillby and Ruke stood awaiting news, he found there was even more worry coming. Thetis looked _grim_ and sounded grimmer as she told him solemnly that the King was calling a meeting. All commanders were needed, _quickly_.

And they went, following after Thetis at a brisk pace, joined by more that the fish monster had met and grabbed the attention of along the way. Grillby’s stomach couldn’t unclench itself from the constant knot it had tangled itself into. He tried not to burn too sickly a green. Ruke seemed unphased but in a calculated way. Tense like someone who wasn’t allowed to show fear. Their breath was a constant haze of frost, and Grillby noticed Ruke sometimes fidgeted with their front claws as they walked.

 The King’s tent was large, but certainly not large enough for every commander in camp. So instead of gathering inside, Asgore had a table moved out into the open near a campfire, and commanders from every edge of the large camp crowded around. Brigg found Grillby in the mess of ducking heads and stepping feet and stood beside him. He didn’t speak, though smoke curled constantly from his nostrils. He offered Grillby a curt nod and a stone-like silence that the elemental tried to take comfort in, but ultimately only worried more. Brigg had never been talkative, no, but the air about him seemed stiff and anxious. He wasn’t quiet, he was grim.

“Alright settle in. Time is short,” Thetis called above the shuffling feet and murmuring voices, urging a hush over the crowd of monsters. She stood to the King’s right side, hands splayed on the map that had been hurriedly pinned to the table. Grillby could make out a scribbled circle that he was sure was the camp they were in. There was a line he recognized to be the wall, and a number of red marks near it.

Thetis huffed a fast sigh, torn ear frills twitching, “We’ve got no time for niceties so we might as well skip them. Lads, we’ve got a tough choice on our hands. Any rumors you might’ve heard are true - The wall is gone. The humans are coming for us, _fast_.”

A soft murmur rippled through the gathered monsters. Grillby felt his soul drop out of his chest. Ruke’s feathers twitched as they threatened to fluff up. Brigg sighed.

Thetis ushered to the map she’d prepared, “Now the main bulk of the army is still getting mobilized here-” she pointed just behind a dark line Grillby assumed was where the wall used to be, “- and they’re not the problem. Like us, it’ll take them time to mobilize completely, and they’ll move about as fast as the group of us would be moving.”

She moved her hand to another plot she’d circled on the map, frowning, “Our problem is this group here. Heavy cavalry. A lot of them. A legion, maybe more.”

A rumble of dismay rippled through the monsters. Grillby watched Ruke scowl, their feathered shoulders slump. A legion? Grillby remembered being told what a legion was once, he knew it was a lot, but he couldn’t remember the number exactly. Brigg seemed to sense his confusion though and muttered just so the elemental could hear.

“Five thousand.”

Grillby’s flame paled to green in an instant. _Five thousand?_

“We don’t have a legion to fight back with this side of the mountains!” someone exclaimed to Grillby’s left.

“We’ve got to retreat back,” cried another voice to Grillby’s right.

“Retreat where? Horses will outpace us in a matter of _days_.”

“Then we stand and fight!”

“ _Hush_ now,” Thetis snapped, banging a fist on the table, “I’m not finished.”

A begrudging hush fell over the gathered monsters again. Thetis sighed, recollected herself and continued.

“Now let’s face facts here. We’re the last large army standing in the way of this lot and the capital, and they probably know it. Otherwise there’d be no need for this show of force. Now these horsemen are running a thin line. From what we’ve seen they’ve got little in the way of supplies - probably left all behind with the main force moving out behind them. This army is here to engage us and hold us in place until the main force can do a route.”

Grillby gulped and tried not to shake.

“We _must_ get the King and our main forces here moved out and towards the capital. Otherwise we’ve lost already. So I suggest -” Thetis drew a line across some hills to the south of them. Grillby didn’t know the area, only that it was nearby and heavy with forest.

“We leave a small force of monsters behind here to break the charge,” she continued, “It’s a bottleneck valley here, the army will have to come in a certain number at a time. And the trees will make sure a stand of horseman won’t just trample through the line and break ranks. If we break the charge here, we’ll slow down the bulk of the force. Without access to rations for a long fight, or healing for their injured, they’ll have to wait on the slower army here to catch up or be forced to retreat.”

Thetis drew another arcing line back towards the mountains, “Then our main force here can get back to the capital. If the charge is broken, anyone left from the stand in the valley here can join us, cut through this pass here.”

Another line arced across the map, “It’s too rocky for horses, and the safest bet for a retreat.”

“If they _can_ retreat,” Brigg said solemnly, “If the charge isn’t broken they’ll be outnumbered and outmatched.”

“Aiy, you’re not wrong,” Thetis conceded after a pause, “I won’t lie to you lads, there’s a _chance_ they’ll make it out of it, but it’s not one I’d bet on.”

“It’s a suicide mission,” Grillby whispered under his breath.

“There must be another way,” All heads turned to Asgore, the King finally speaking after so long being silent. He looked grim and aged, as if just contemplating this decision hurt him more than the previous battles he’d faced. He shook his head slowly, the heavy shiver of his mournful magic coating the air in waves. At least, it seemed that way to Grillby.

“I cannot in good conscious order a force to stay behind knowing they won’t make it back.”

“Your Highness-” Thetis began but was cut off by a swift motion from the King’s hand.

“This is an unacceptable course of action.”

“We take volunteers then,” Ruke piped up, shifting uncomfortably from one clawed foot to another, “Anyone unwilling to stay behind will make the run to the Capital.”

“And who will stay behind willingly knowing the odds?” a monster near the King’s right spoke, “They’ll need generals to lead them to stay behind as well. This isn’t just a matter of soldiers. This is all of us. And I for one don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”

A heavy silence fell over the tent, thick with unsure magic and sideways glances. _Who would stay behind?_ No one seemed willing to come forward, and Grillby couldn’t blame them. This whole thing was terrifying. It took everything in him not to shiver openly at the thought of it all. Standing alone in a valley with a handful of ragtag monsters, waiting for the inevitable thunder of hooves, not knowing if they’d even succeed. He couldn’t help it, his flame twisted in pitiful, fearful colors and his soul shuddered. _He was afraid_. But… the more he looked around the more he realized no one was coming forward. Not first anyway. _Someone_ needed to stay. To give everyone else a chance. To let the King escape. Someone. _Someone surely_.

But no one did. Ashamed eyes glanced away from the table, nervous feet shuffled. They were scared.

A squirming thing came to life in Grillby’s chest then, regretful and strong and bitter like the taste of dust. Why was he even wondering about this. Why was he bothering to feel afraid. He knew his answer to this as soon as Ruke suggested volunteers. He knew because he summoned for moments like this. For moments where regular monsters weren’t made to face the danger.

He was an elemental after all. _Expendable_. In a way.

This was his duty.

He should do this.

It took a mighty effort to speak, and when he did, smoke hissed with his breath. He hoped the others in the tent would assume that was the reason his voice shook, and cracked a bit when he spoke.

“I’ll stay.”

Gods, his voice sounded so small, and Grillby could _feel_ all the eyes turn to him when he said it. Asgore’s gaze was the heaviest when it landed on him. Grillby felt it like a weight on his shoulders.

“Are you sure.”

Stars above of course he wasn’t. He could feel his body trying to shake.

“I was your wall once, my King,” Grillby said when he was sure he could keep control of his voice, “Allow me to be it again.”

Gods, what was he doing.

Asgore nodded, “Alright then.”

“I will stay behind as well.”

Grillby flickered harshly in surprise as Brigg clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. Horror tightened itself around Grillby’s soul like a mage’s spell. He sparked up at the dragon, who’s gaze remained steady on the King.

“Brigg you can’t -”

“It’s my decision,” Brigg cut him off sharply, a dangerous sort of growl clipping the edge of his voice. There was no discussing this. Not here anyway. Grillby tried to keep his flame burning neutral colors.

Inspired perhaps by Grillby and Brigg’s coming forward, three more commanders offered their services. Then with a heavy nod Asgore dismissed them. They were all to brief their units on the situation and take as many volunteers as were willing. Immediately the camp was to be struck, anything nonessential was to be left behind. If they were to reach the pass before the horsemen caught up to them, they needed to leave tonight in as brisk a pace as they could muster.

Brigg left quickly to ready his unit, Grillby didn’t even get a chance to approach him before he vanished into the crowd. This was… probably for the best. Nothing Grillby said or did would get the stubborn monster to change his mind. But still… Grillby felt bad. _Guilty_ , even more so than what was fast becoming his normal. What happened if Brigg died out there? Wasn’t he only volunteering because Grillby was?

The elemental tried to shake the thought away.

No… no that was too presumptuous of him. There was no way. He wasn’t that important. To fool himself into thinking he was, that he meant that much to Brigg… they hadn’t spoken in length for weeks. Ever since Grillby was assigned his unit they saw each other sparingly.

… this was pointless to think about right now.

He had more important things to do.

Ruke in tow, Grillby started making his way across the camp to where his unit was stationed. Already he was dodging running monsters, people scrambling to send messages, get supplies, to pack. Word traveled fast, especially in a camp already wired and anxious. Once or twice Grillby passed a crowd of monsters gathered around their commanders receiving news. Grillby’s soul twisted, his gut constantly tied itself over and over in tightening knots. What was he going to say? What was he going to _say?_

How could he ask his unit to make this decision when it’d been hard enough to make it himself?

His circle of tents was in sight when a loud screech stopped him. Grillby and Ruke both stopped in their tracks, and the elemental turned to see Thetis storming towards him. _Angry_ , half running to catch up. Before he could even ask what was wrong she was in his face yelling at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“I -”

“Reconsider this,” Thetis demanded severely, her voice loud and shaking, “March your ass back to Asgore and tell him you’ve reconsidered, _right now_.”

Grillby could feel eyes on him, hear shuffling feet. Behind him his unit was stirring, wondering what was going on. The nervousness in Grillby’s soul turned into something bitter and harsh.

“What?” he asked, first quietly, and then a bit firmer, “What? No, of course not. I can’t just -”

“You can and you _will_ , if you know what’s good for you!” Thetis barked, somehow managing to step even closer to him. Grillby shuffled a step back away from her, “This is not your place Grillby. You hear me? You’re leaving with the rest of us.”

“No I’m _not_ ,” whatever was twisting in Grillby’s gut firmed up into anger, “This was my decision to make and I’ve made it.”

“ _Gods’ spit_ it's your decision!” Thetis screamed, and she _shoved him_ , forcing him to stagger a step back, “This is your gods-be-damned purpose talking and I won’t have it! My sister didn’t die saving some _gobermouch_ of an elemental just for you to run off and kill yourself on a fool’s errand!”

Grillby felt a flash of _rage_ wrench itself up through his chest. He took a threatening step forward and shouted, “Your sister-!”

“Guys! Stop!”

_Oh gods_. Gaster was running over to them, looking confused and worried… and a little hesitant to be stepping in, “What’s going on?”

“Gaster!” Thetis shouted, startling him, but Grillby noticed her voice was more relieved than angry, “Make him reconsider.”

“Reconsider _what?”_

Grillby snarled a bitter breath of smoke, “It’s _nothing_.”

“Your absolute _dalcop_ of a campfire here is staying behind to wait for the army to get here,” Thetis persisted, flashing Grillby another hearty glare, “Make him see _reason_.”

“This _is_ reason!” Grillby shouted, flailing his arms in exasperation and sending sparks flying, “They’re going to need strong monsters to stay behind. We’re already outnumbered. We’re _already_ overpowered-”

“ _Exactly_ why you’re _leaving_ with _the rest of us,_ ” Thetis said, jabbing a harsh finger against his chest, “My sister didn’t save your _life_ just so you can throw it away on this pointless _mess_.”

“Thetis-” Gaster started gently, but Grillby cut him off abruptly, sparking and snarling. _Angry_. Angrier than he’d been in a while. Angrier even then last night when he’d been arguing with Gaster. Angry. _Guilty_.

“I told your sister to _run!_ ” he screamed _much louder_ than he needed to, and he felt the effort and force of it as a wincing pain in the back of his throat that he fought to ignore. He towered over Thetis, burning hot and white and sparking. She winced a bit against the heat but remained where she stood, “She _made_ her choice, she _knew_ what would happen and she did it anyway!”

Grillby took a step forward, but unlike how Grillby had before, Thetis refused to move back away from him. She stood her ground, eyes narrow and body dangerous like a coil ready to snap loose.

“Amathea isn’t here,” Grillby continued, this time managing to lower his voice, “Like it or not you’re stuck with me. And I’ve _made my choice_. And _you_ have _more important things to do_ than stand here all evening and yell at me, and I _suggest_ you do them.”

There was a pause where neither of them moved, and Grillby growled low, “Or maybe I should order you to, since I outrank you.”

Grillby felt more than saw the wince that went through Thetis’ body, and he was surprised when he managed to catch her fist in his hand before her punch could connect with the side of his face. There was a tense second that passed where Grillby could feel all her weight and intent shuddering threateningly towards him, the crackle of magic just _waiting_ for a reason to form.

“Thetis,” Gaster’s voice said softly from where he’d stepped up beside them, “Calm down.”

She glared at him heartily for a moment, and then back up at Grillby. Then she wrenched her hand out of his, and the magic dropped out of the air like a gasp of held breath. But she wasn’t finished yet.

“I hate you,” Thetis said, and she finally stepped back away from him, “You _elementals_ and your _brain washing_.”

She glared at him, “You think those gods-damned rules were made for _you?_ ”

Thetis spat at his feet before jabbing a finger in his direction one last time and snarling menacingly, “I _hope_ you get dusted out there. Elemental or not you’ll leave a lot less dust behind than any of the rest of us.”

“We’ll see then,” was all Grillby could think to reply. Not that Thetis heard him. She was already storming away and - he noticed belatedly - wringing out her hand as she went. He must have burned her. Okay… he felt… he felt pretty bad about that. Angry or not, he hadn’t wanted that.

“Grillby that was cruel,” Gaster said as Grillby turned away.

“Sure it was.”

“Now what the _hell_ is going on?” Gaster pestered, jogging to cross in front of him and force Grillby to stop walking, “What happened? What was all that about? What army?”

“Oh for gods’ sakes,” Grillby huffed trying to step around him, “You’ll find out _soon enough_ let me talk to my unit.”

“Grillby _please_ ,” Gaster moved to step in his way again, but was pulled short by Ruke. For a moment Grillby heard whispering, and then he was amongst his unit and their questions and their worry. What was going on, what was all this about staying behind. He tried to fill them in as quickly as possible, trying to ignore his own nervousness and the building soreness in the back of his throat. He’d been doing too much yelling lately, too much talking lately. It would figure, wouldn’t it, that he would come to the eve of a battle unable to give orders properly. Everything was just one exasperation after another. He was tired. He felt like he’d aged a hundred years.

It was getting hard to keep his unit from panicking when Grillby sounded so weary, but he somehow managed it. Managed it even when he told them of the volunteering, and that he was staying behind.

“My volunteering means nothing for the rest of you,” he stated as firmly as he could, though raising his voice to talk so much put an ache in the back of his throat again and threatened to make his voice wobble, “If you wish to stay and fight, I’ll gladly have you. And if you wish to flee, you’re…”

Something winced in Grillby’s chest.

“- no lesser a monster for it.”

He paused and then said a bit more quietly, “Thetis has already said there’s a pretty high chance the monsters that stay behind likely won’t be able to retreat. And honestly, those that will retreat likely won’t be able to carry wounded or falling down.”

All murmuring through his unit had stopped, replaced by the troubled gazes of all his monsters upon him, grim and cold. For now, no one stepped forward. Grillby didn’t blame them.

“Strike camp,” he commanded then, breaking the tense silence, “Take only what you can carry and can’t bear to part with. We move out immediately. You have until we reach the valley to decide.”

The unit split up shakily, talking quietly amongst themselves at points but mostly quiet with grim apprehension. This was a lot of news all at once, almost too much. The hopelessness was nearly palpable. And here Grillby was left standing beside Ruke and Gaster, watching his unit work, his own disquiet in his soul writhing about like snakes somewhere in his gut. He needed to move. He needed to collect his things and strike his own tent and start taking tally of the monsters he’d have to work with. He needed to move. But he felt frozen. For a long moment it felt as if his very thoughts had stopped moving, every inch of his willpower stuck to the bottom of his shoes where they sifted into the mud and rooted him in place. He didn’t want to think about what was happening now.

Grillby watched one of the tents get pulled apart.

As if snapping from a spell, Grillby started moving, helping gather things here and pull down tents there, lending a hand in the best way he knew how. At the very least it kept his mind focused on something else despite the tense numbness that was clenching fingers around his soul. Their camp was torn apart in less than an hour, and he scattered his unit to help with the units nearby them, getting last minute things packed. A lot was being left behind, anything that could be parted with. Bits of armor that were too heavy to pack quickly, half-sets of cookware, a scattered set of knucklebones someone had dropped in their hurry,

The evening was starting to blur together dangerously. Time was passing strangely. There was a familiar numbness creeping around Grillby’s core. He was worried. He was scared. He could hardly decipher what he was helping one monster tear down or pack together or load up. He was dazed.

He was worried he’d made a mistake.

But it was too late to worry about that now. This had flown out of Grillby’s hands as soon as he’d volunteered.

Grillby’s soft daze only ended when he realized there was nothing left to busy himself with, when everyone was gathered into the best rank and file they could muster in the dimming evening and they were being led out. They walked through the remnants of the camp. The odd bits and pieces left behind might have been a graveyard in the dimming light. There was the same sense of loss about it, uncertainty. The feeling that you were leaving too much behind but still terrified you hadn’t left enough. That they wouldn’t move fast enough. Grillby took a few more seconds to let his gaze linger on what had been home for the longest time since he’d been summoned. Months, lifetimes it felt like, had been lived here. A lot had changed since it had been made.

Grillby turned to leave but stopped short when he found Gaster standing right in front of him. _Gods_ the skeleton could be quiet when he wanted to be. He wasn’t blocking Grillby’s way, as he would’ve guessed. Nor did he seem angry. He was just there, waiting on Grillby to start walking so they could join the rest of the monsters as they began on their way. Grillby felt like he should say something, but his throat was sore and honestly, he felt like he was beyond words. Just scant colors in a very tired, quiet flame.

Finally he managed, “Ruke told you everything then?”

“More or less,” Gaster sighed, his hands moving halfheartedly through the motions of his signs, “This is a mess, firefly.”

Grillby nodded.

“Well uh… listen…” Gaster continued somewhat awkwardly, “Whatever happens tomorrow… I just want you to know, I’ll be there with you. We’ll get through this, I promise.”

Gaster smiled reassuringly, and Grillby wanted so badly to scoop his friend up in a hug and walk with him away from there. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. And those knots in his stomach just tied themselves tighter the longer he looked at Gaster’s reassuring face. Gods he was so, _so tired._

“You’re not staying behind with me tomorrow Gaster.”

Gaster blinked at him, his expression shifting quickly from the reassuring glow to something much more hurt and worried. It sent a stitch through Grillby’s soul.

 “What? Of course I am! Don’t be stupid.”

Grillby pinched the space between his eyes and tried to keep the weariness out of his voice, “No you’re _not_. You’re loading up on one of the King’s wagons as soon as we reach the valley.”

“ _No,_ I’m staying with you!” Gaster insisted, his signed wide and erratic and blurring in Grillby’s tired vision, “You’re going to need all the help you can get out there, and I’m allowed to volunteer.”

“Oh for gods’ sakes Gaster,” Grillby snapped, huffing out a breath of smoke, “Look me in the eye right now and tell me you can kill a human.”

Gaster blinked at him, hands paused halfway through a sign, “... I.”

“You can’t,” Grillby answered for him, scowling.

“I don’t have to!” Gaster argued back, sounding more desperate than angry, “I can help you! I can use blue magic to help you dodge or - I can - if there’s a mage or - you’re bound to need a doctor at the very _least-”_

“Anybody who can’t run from the battle and make a climb through the mountains is being left behind, Gaster,” Grillby said harshly, too tired to bother sounding more reasonable, too _done_ with all of this mess, “We won’t _need_ a doctor. And with your magic and your history, we can’t let you get captured again, and I can’t keep you safe.”

He added with a low crackle of sparks in his voice, “If you go, you’re only going to get in the way.”

Gaster blinked at him for a long moment, hands twitching once as he tried to think of something to say. Grillby felt spent and empty, had felt that way before this conversation even started. He was tired. He was bitter. He had a sour taste in his mouth.

“You’re staying with the King’s men,” Grillby said finally, turning to walk away, “If I have to throw you onto one of those wagons myself.”

“Wh- _why_ are you doing this,” Gaster asked, his voice sounding weak and strained. The knots in Grillby’s stomach tightened, “Why do you keep fighting me?”

And then angrier, as Grillby turned back to face him again, “Is that all you even know how to do anymore?!”

Gaster was crying. Of _course_ he was. Guilt and exasperation curled round in Grillby’s stomach like snakes and he hated it. But he didn’t have the energy to be nearly so emotional back. All he could do was watch Gaster with a slump in his shoulders and a nasty sort of cringe in his soul.

“Funny you should ask,” Grillby snapped, sparking dark colors, “If the elemental, summoned to do _only one thing_ , would only know how to fight everything.”

Gaster scowled at him, angrily batting at one of the tear tracks running from his sockets.

“I’m tired of pretending we’re something we’re not, Gaster.”

“And what the hell is that?” came the tense reply.

“Like we’re anything other than a doctor who wishes he could fight but can’t,” Grillby grumbled through a haze of smoke, “Or an elemental that is actually good at anything other than one thing. Or like either of us know what we’re doing.”

Gaster made no response, and Grillby had no idea what he was thinking. The skeleton had stopped signing completely. Not even his fingers twitched. For a few seconds they just stood there in silence among the bones of the camp as the sky darkened.

“Come on,” Grillby said finally, “We’re being left behind.”

They didn’t talk anymore after that. Ruke found Grillby among the crowd and ferried him away to plod along with the other commanders who had volunteered to stay behind. As night fell they debated tactics - where Grillby mostly listened with numb quietness. He was tired. His _soul_ was tired. He wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Instead he slept for a handful of hours, snagged at the miserable tail end of the night when they finally reached the valley.

Morning, as always, came much too early, bright and colorful and brutally callous to the hopeless monsters that woke for it.

Grillby wished the sun never rose at all.

 

                                                                                                                                                         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive.
> 
> Sorry this chapter took so long to get out to you guys. For reasons I think are probably obvious, this was a really hard one to write. Puts you in a pretty intense headspace. That coupled with my school semester coming to an end and a severe case of tendinitis assassinating my wrist for the past two weeks and you've got... uhh... this mess ahaha.
> 
> Things are ramping up a bit in the coming chapters. And soon you'll get to see a super secret special awesome piece I got commissioned for an upcoming chapter because I'm self indulgent and it's one of the scenes I've been waiting to write since this story started. Heck.
> 
> Have a nice day / night everyone.  
> It's 1am and I'm going to sleep.
> 
> Wish me luck on my last final tomorrow!


	73. The Turn of a Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we hear a familiar phrase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARE YOU SURPRISED?? I AM!!!!  
> Alsoalsoalsoalso
> 
> Fffffffffffanart feature!
> 
> Just two this time because holy wow I actually posted a chapter in a timely manner? Is that even possible??
> 
> Anyway! First up we have arguably the funniest thing to ever be drawn for CR which is this [ amazing comic by drawing-inthrain](http://silverskye13.tumblr.com/post/173566125362/drawing-intherain-silverskye13-this-is-what)!
> 
> And a very cool gif by [Unexpected-Profundity of Gaster signing one of his bone attacks](http://silverskye13.tumblr.com/post/173655241117/unexpected-profundity-gaster-stop-signing-your) and it's really pretty!

“Four hundred,” Grillby repeated dumbly, staring down at Ruke as they picked uselessly through their report, “You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately not,” came the detached reply, more detached than usual, if that were possible. Grillby was starting to realize this was what worry sounded like on Ruke, “The good news is, if we crowd on the near side of the valley we’ll be down to about thirty monsters abreast before the landscape gets too rough. That’s what, twenty horses maybe?”

“Twenty of five-thousand.”

“It could be worse.”

“It could damn well be better,” grumbled Brigg, “We’ll be lucky if we can hold the first charge let alone break the momentum of the entire army.”

“We were aware of the risks as soon as Thetis gave them,” Ruke answered back, their voice even, “And we knew volunteers would be sparse-”

“We shouldn’t have taken volunteers!” Brigg snapped, his anger a rumble of thunder and sparks, “This is a waste of time - it’s a waste of  _ lives _ .”

“Thank you for stating the obvious Commander Brigg,” Ruke scowled, “Now if you wouldn’t mind contributing something  _ useful  _ to this discussion?”

“Or just lower your voices,” this was one of the commanders Grillby didn’t know, a wolf-like monster with a sharp gaze. He thought her name was Siri, “Before someone overhears you and falls down. Gods know we have enough problems as it is.”

Grillby flashed his gaze outside the circle of commanders, all gathered and discussing underneath the canopy of a quickly pitched tent. So hastily fastened together in fact that it was less of a Command Tent for Important Business and more of a Flimsy Lean-to For Formality’s Sake. None of the monsters they’d been left with seemed within earshot though, most choosing to huddle amongst themselves and wait miserably for the approaching army to arrive. Grillby did notice a few sets of eyes peering in their direction, likely drawn by Brigg’s outburst. The gazes were quickly diverted when Grillby met them. He thought he could see them whispering.

“Elemental,” Commander Atli snapped, and when he did his form rippled strangely, like a ghost. He seemed to be made completely of shadows, and it made it a bit hard to tell where his face was, “Why not make another wall? That’ll give them pause I’m sure.”

Grillby frowned. No, there was no way. He… honestly was still fuzzy on how he’d done it the first time. The day he’d made his Gehenna was a large miserable blur in the periphery of his memories. He knew the basics of how it could’ve been done, but the  _ emotion _ , the anger and grief that had driven it - that was something that couldn’t be replicated. Something he never wanted to feel again. 

“I could only do it the last time because of the season,” Grillby said carefully, quietly, “There were fallen leaves everywhere, the ground was dry, the wind -- there’s nothing like that now. And everything is soaked from the melted snow.”

He shifted his weight and shoved his foot to the side, leaving a trail in the mud beneath his boot, “On my own I could hold up a barrier maybe, but it would burn out as soon as I stopped focusing on it. Nothing like Gehenna can happen here.”

“Gehenna?”

_ Hmm. Maybe that really was just a human word.  _

The third commander, Grillby noticed, had remained silent this whole time. He hoped they were thinking of a plan. The rest of them were getting nowhere.

“A distraction then,” Brigg spoke, his voice marginally calmer than it had been before, “Something to block their sight as they’re coming down the valley.”

_ A distraction? _

“What about…” Grillby began hesitantly, and then tilted his head in Brigg’s direction, “You remember the battle with the thunderstorm? How we came down the hill for our first charge?”

“You want to set up an ice field?”

“We can mist the front line with ice, all the fire magic users can set off once the charge starts,” Grillby hummed, “Behind them as many pikes as we can manage. Through all the steam the horses won’t know what’s waiting for them, and they’ll be going so fast… If we can knock the first lot of them off their horses they’ll lose momentum.”

“We should set a line of ranged magic behind the pikes,” finally the third commander spoke, shifting where they stood with their arms crossed, “With as few as we have for pikes, they’ll need all the help they can get keeping the horses coming behind from pressing them back.”

“We don’t have to hold them long,” Ruke reminded, “Just long enough for them to pull back and regroup.”

All the commanders exchanged glances for a moment, thinking, waiting for someone else to pipe up with a better plan. Apparently they had none.

“I’ll gather some monsters with ice magic,” Ruke volunteered, breaking the silence, “Grillby, plot where you want the line to go and we’ll make it.”

“I’ll get all the pikes rounded we can muster,” Siri said quickly, leaving briskly without another word to the gathered commanders. Brigg was speaking to Atli about what to do with the remainder of the monsters, and finding any who specialized in fire. They began ambling off, the third commander following in step and speaking in low tones about how best to organize everyone amongst the rough terrain. Grillby watched them for a long moment. Exhaustion clawed at his insides, emotions from last night he hadn’t yet swallowed, everything that could come rushing back to him as soon as the distraction was gone.

“Commander,” Ruke hummed, “You should go.”

Grillby nodded. This was going to be a long day, and he needed to get it started but… for the life of him he couldn’t find it in him to move. He needed to. He wanted to. But his soul felt still, like he had suddenly been turned to stone. He felt tired. He felt overwhelmed.

Ruke eyed him a moment longer before sighing, “Stoke your flame, Commander.”

Grillby dared a skeptical glance in their direction.

“It’s grim, but we’re not dead yet,” Ruke reminded, “If everyone around here sees the elemental losing hope they’ll figure we’ve already lost.”

“We might as well have,” Grillby muttered, “Brigg is right. Even with all this-”

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Ruke snapped fiercely, feathers ruffling and ice on their breath, “Not another word. We  _ must  _ win. We  _ cannot  _ fail. Bleak as it is, monsterkind depends on us today.”

They flashed Grillby a hearty glare, “Get bitter. Get  _ angry  _ if you must.  _ Rage  _ against this madness we’re up against. Burn it in your mind the same way you would if it’s laid before you. But if you lose hope for even a second, then we have already lost.”

Grillby blinked down at Ruke for a moment feeling… quietly impressed. Not nearly inspired enough by the speech, no. But it was by far more than he’d ever expected to hear of encouragement from Ruke, brave and dissonant against the hopelessness that seemed to cling to everything like smoke.

In spite of himself Grillby found himself asking, “You’re not scared at all?”

“I’m terrified,” Ruke said, brisk and stiff, “But if it’s my fate to die today, I chose to fight it beak and claw. I will not go gently when there’s so much at stake.”

Grillby nodded quietly. It was a noble thought he supposed, though he didn’t know how Ruke could manage it knowing what they were up against.

“Take a moment to collect yourself if you must,” Ruke said a bit gentler, the sharpness lilting out of their tone just barely, “But do not let these monsters know you doubt.”

They ruffled their their reports and produced a scribbled map of the valley they were in, “I’ll be back with monsters to lay that ice in a moment. Get it charted.”

Grillby nodded, feeling stupid and childish as Ruke left. All this time bickering about how  _ he  _ was the commander and this was  _ his  _ charge and how  _ he could handle this _ . All that high-and-mighty talk about being the King’s wall and staying behind. All the snapping and arguing and ruining  _ everything _ and the  _ one time  _ being strong was the  _ most  important  _ he was falling to pieces. Nervous and scared and hopeless and  _ absolutely useless _ . Just another mistake for the growing pile of messes he was making. He stared dumbly at the map in his hands, feeling the tightness in his throat and his chest building. He was going to cry. Gods  _ damn it  _ this was ridiculous.

He was so  _ stupid _ .

Movement ruffled the shoddy canvas and Grillby snapped his head up, expecting one of the commanders back or maybe Ruke already done --

And standing before him was Gaster, looking… arguably the most ridiculous Grillby had ever seen him. He would’ve been  _ angry _ , he was sure, if the skeleton didn’t look so ridiculous. He was wearing armor - but gods alive he was wearing it  _ wrong _ . Everything was mismatched, grieves were where gauntlets should be, pieces Grillby didn’t even know  _ could  _ fit together somehow  _ were _ . All tied together with crossed, unsigning arms and a stern expression that might cut through the soul if it weren’t coupled by so much absurdity.

“What… are you doing?” Grillby asked after a long pause.

Gaster opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, and Grillby watched as that weird sternness dropped off Gaster’s features and replaced itself with nervousness. He rubbed the back of his head, mismatched armor pinging together with every movement.

“So here’s the deal,” Gaster said, fidgeting, “I’m… Look you’re stuck with me okay? I’m staying behind to help you, and  _ nothing  _ you say or do can possibly change my mind.”

Grillby moved to speak, but a flaring sign from Gaster cut him off. Not angry or yelling, but insistent, a plea to listen, “Grillby I want to help you, and I  _ want  _ to keep you alive.”

Gaster sighed, “I don’t want to go back to the capital and be safe and know that I left behind someone I love, maybe never to see them again.  _ Please _ , Grillby. Let me stay. Let me help you.”

Grillby fixed Gaster in a withering stare. Oh gods… why this?  _ Why this now? _ This was  _ so... !  _ So… very, very Gaster. Gods it hurt his heart. His soul ached and he wanted to be angry and he wanted to insist Gaster leave now and catch up with Asgore’s troops and he wanted to grab Gaster’s shoulders and shake him and ask him what the hell he thought he was  _ doing here _ . And that stupid part of him that’d wanted to cry earlier just wanted to cry more.

“Well,” Grillby finally grumbled, “Your armor’s all wrong.”

Gaster offered him a noncommittal shrug, “I mean, normally I just wear chainmail.”

Grillby sighed out a breath of smoke, “Hold still.”

He got to work unbuckling things that weren’t needed and laying them off to the side, and putting pieces where they should be. Once or twice, more out of his own perfectionism than any real need, Grillby paused to buff out a scuff here or there on a piece of metal that he had  _ no  _ idea how it got there. Underneath all the junk and mess Gaster was still wearing his doctor’s robes, with the sewn on pockets Grillby had made ages ago. Cinched on his belt were the two long knives Grillby had gotten for him in what seemed like another lifetime, the night Ammy and Thetis had danced and Grillby had tasted the words of The Parting Glass. He finished straightening up Gaster’s sleeve, hiding the chainmail that the skeleton normally wore beneath the worn fabric. Most of the armor Gaster had stumbled in with was discarded, leaving him looking much more normal and far less ridiculous. Much more like  _ Gaster _ .

Grillby held his hand for a second, as if he could find something else there to fix, feeling empty and full all at once. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say.

“Firefly?”

One word, and it was as if something in Grillby’s soul spooled itself loose. He pulled Gaster in for a hug his soul needed even though he’d been standing here trying to keep the feeling at bay. He needed Gaster close. He needed to pour into him how scared and stupid and small he felt. He needed  _ something  _ other than feeling overwhelmed and over his head and completely and utterly  _ lost _ . He wanted to wrap himself around Gaster so completely he disappeared. 

He felt Gaster’s own arms slip up his back to hug him in return, and Grillby felt as if he were going to fall apart completely. He was crying, shoulders shaking, breaths quiet and jagged, drops like molten glass falling onto Gaster’s shoulders to fizzle out into sparks seconds later. And Grillby felt  _ stupid  _ and Grillby felt  _ childish _ and stupidest of all he felt  _ relieved _ . So completely utterly down-to-the-soul relieved that Gaster was  _ here _ and he wasn’t alone even though he knew he shouldn't be. He  _ shouldn’t ever  _ wish his friend was here,  _ here _ of all places at what was very much started to feel like the end of everything.

“I’m sorry,” Grillby finally managed.

Gaster’s grip around him tightened, “I know.”

No he didn’t. He could  _ never possibly know  _ how sorry he was. Sorry for arguing and being scared. Sorry things couldn’t be how they used to be. Sorry they were in this mess. Sorry the wall had fallen. Sorry Ammy was gone. Sorry Gaster had been left behind. Sorry things had all spiralled so out of control so quickly. Sorry for saying stupid things and feeling stupid feelings and lashing out and being completely  _ useless  _ in  _ so many ways _ . 

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“... I don’t think anyone does.”

Gaster pulled away from him, and arms interlocked they looked at each other, every miserable apologetic color Grillby could possibly burn reflecting across the skeleton’s face.

“We’ll get through this,” Gaster said quietly, sternly, “We’ve made it through everything else, we’ll do it again. I promise.”

“I can’t protect you,” Grillby stammered.

“We’ll protect each other,” Gaster answered.

Grillby didn’t think Gaster believed what he was saying. He looked just as scared and tired as Grillby felt. His magic was pervasive and jittering, his hands clutched to Grillby with a tremor and just a little too tightly. Grillby took what he’d wanted to be a steadying breath, but found it only shuddered in his chest when he breathed it. Finally he nodded.

“We’ll protect each other,” he agreed, a bit disbelievingly.

“Right,” Gaster nodded, “Now come on, we’ve got work to do.”

“There’s… a lot we need to talk about,” the elemental said quietly.

Gaster sighed, “Years’ worth.”

“After this,” Grillby continued, “I promise.”

They looked at each other again, both slowly hesitantly smiling, and Grillby feeling absolutely ridiculous. He felt as if a weight had lifted off his shoulders, and at the same time like all this misery was just an overreaction. But he couldn’t dwell on it now. He wasn’t allowed to. They had work to do. There was a battle to prepare for.

They broke apart and walked out of the tent together, and one last question glanced across Grillby mind.

“You mean to tell me you’ve watched me put on armor for a year,” Grillby said, “And you never figured it out yourself?”

Gaster’s smile widened just a little, “I mean… I’m not  _ not  _ saying I know how to put on armor, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

Grillby elbowed him gently, “You’re terrible.”

“Well,” Gaster said with a nonchalant sign and a grin, “You did push me off a cliff once, so I think we’re even.”

 

<hr />

 

A few hours later they were standing at the front of the lines of monsters, thirty monsters abreast, pressed between two hills desperately trying to turn into mountains and staggered with trees. Thetis had done well in choosing this as their place for a stand - Grillby couldn’t see soldiers running through this fast, let alone horses. Ahead of him sprawled across the ground was a thin layer of ice being refreshed now by Ruke as they glided across it, their blunt and awkward looking wings surprisingly deft at pivoting around trees and brush. The day was warm enough to to make the ice start to melt, but the breeze behind them was cool and soft and filled with the roundness of water from the mountains. It at least kept the frozen veil across the ground from evaporating too quickly. At his back, Grillby could feel the nervous energy of the fire monsters they’d assembled, staggered amidst pike-wielding monsters and other ranged magic users, tense and ready. 

_ This is going to work _ , he prayed more than thought,  _ it will _ .

A few minutes prior a scout had come back saying the horses had entered the far end of the valley. Grillby sometimes fancied he could feel the rumbling of the hooves beneath his feet as the horses all walked in unison. He couldn’t see them yet, the trees were a bit too dense. But they were coming.

Ruke alighted beside him, looking a bit disheveled, “I heard a call out there. I think they saw me.”

“Did you see them?” Grillby asked softly.

Ruke shook their head, “No, not even a glint of metal.”

They added after a pause, “But I supposed I am a large white bird. I stick out a bit.”

“So does five thousand horses,” Grillby pointed out.

The bird monster shrugged.

Grillby placed a hand on the hilt of his sword nervously, fidgeting for a moment. Trying to figure out if the vibration in his feet was actually the approaching horses or just a trick of his anxious mind. A few minutes passed and he still didn’t see anything.

The tension was twisting in his stomach angry,  _ writhing  _ more like. He hated the waiting. He  _ always  _ hated the wait before a battle. He wanted to get this over with. He wished he could skip into the future and see if they’d won.

“Commander,” Ruke said, catching the elemental’s attention. There was something in their voice, the way their tone dimmed, something different than Grillby ever remembered hearing from Ruke. A cautious spark snapped its way through Grillby’s flame.

“It's come to my attention that there are things I’ve said that put some discord between you and your friend,” they said stiffly, looking away into the woods ahead, “And that wasn’t my intention. I realize I can be tactless, and it is in my nature to be cold.”

Ruke sighed out a tense breath of frost, “However it is not in my nature to be  _ cruel _ . So for the hardship I’ve caused you over the past few days… and…  _ longer _ ,” Ruke looked up at him, “I would like to offer an apology.”

“Uh…” Grillby’s mind blanked on him completely. That was…  _ not  _ what he’d ever expected to hear, “Th… thank you?”

“Well don’t go making a big deal out of it,” Ruke snapped, feathers fluffing up with barely-suppressed embarrassment, “It just needed to be said.”

“We’re actually going to die out here,” Grillby said in the flattest tone he could muster, “This is it. This is the sign from the gods. It was a pleasure serving with you all.”

“Oh for the love of--! Fine! I take it back!” Ruke trilled in exasperation, “You’re still a dumb naive elemental and I hate your guts.”

“Nope, I’m a witness,” Gaster laughed, weaving his way out from between a few of the standing soldiers, “You’re capable of feeling emotions and I’m proud of you.”

Ruke let out a disgruntled sort of crow, feathers bristling. Grillby couldn’t help it, he was laughing, a hand over his mouth to try and keep it quiet, and Gaster was chuckling along with him. It took a second for him to calm down and take a breath.  His smile waned a bit though and he spoke, “Ruke, why are you here?”

They looked stubbornly away from him towards the tree line, a frown locked across their beak.

“I don’t even remember hearing you volunteer,” Grillby pressed again cautiously.

A bit of the stiffness worked its way out of Ruke’s shoulders. They thought for a moment before saying, “As an elemental you’re summoned to be forced onto the front lines to fight our battles for us. You’re trained from birth knowing at a moments notice we will ask you to do the unthinkable, and that the unthinkable will be done to you should you refuse, even when it’s obvious we would never ask the same thing of anyone else.”

Their wings splayed a bit and they gestured around them with their forelegs, “ _ Obviously _ , as the King couldn’t even order monsters to stay behind knowing it could save the war.”

There was a pause and they finally said, “I suppose I thought it was  unfair.”

They shrugged again, “So, I stayed behind.”

A soft, warm sort of fondness wormed its way into Grillby’s soul. With all sincerity Grillby said quietly, “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Ruke made a noncommittal gesture with one of their talons. They opened their mouth to say something but were abruptly cut off by a horn blast, startlingly close. All gazes snapped to the forest ahead as the silence enveloped them. And then Grillby saw it, a flicker of movement in the trees. A rumble began deep in the ground.

“That’s the charge,” Grillby gasped, drawing his sword, “Fire users, make ready!”

Magic sprung to life behind him. Grillby felt it like the sudden opening of a thousand eyes at his back, glaring forward. He responded by lighting his own.

“Gaster, stay close to me.”

The rumble was lower and slower than the one charge Grillby remembered hearing in the past. That one had been a wave, a cascade of noise that jarred through his whole body.  _ This  _ was a rumble like far away thunder. This was less of a charge, not a gallop of horses but something slower and more cautious. But of course they would still come. They knew the monsters were outnumbered. They were sure they could win regardless of the disadvantage.

“Fire!” Grillby commanded, tossing forward his flame onto the ice they’d cast upon the ground. There was a relay of his orders down the line, more flame leaping forward, and it was as if the sky suddenly burst open through the ground as a plume of steam rose and rolled forward, caught in the breeze.

The rumble grew louder, heedless of the lack of visibility. Grillby’s soul thrummed in his chest along with it. With the haze of steam before them he couldn’t see his enemy coming. But he could  _ hear  _ them, feel the vibrations through the ground as the earth shook like a giant beast waking from its slumber. Somewhere to his left one of the commanders called for pikes to lower and they did, the long poles arcing forward and bracing against shoulders and shields. Grillby exhaled a breath and readied a line of lances, lighting one for every pike that bristled forward. It was a burden on his soul to hold them all in place, build their magic molten and angry. Grillby caught a few awestruck glances in his direction. He imaged it had been awhile since most of these monsters had last seen him fight. Gaster readied his own magic behind him. The rumbling was so loud Grillby was sure it would be the last thing he ever heard.

The first of the charging horses leaped through the mist, its rider covered in glittering steel and sword drawn. A look of horror struck his face when he saw what was waiting for him. For a moment, it was like the world froze along with Grillby’s held breath. And when he released the breath he was holding, his lances took flight in a blur of burning motion. They missed the first rider, but Grillby wasn’t aiming for him. Why bother when a second later horse and human were chest deep in lances.

Grillby’s lances tore through the mist and exploded into whatever was in front of them. Tree trunks shattered and cracked sharply and fell. Horses Grillby couldn’t see but could feel through the ground fell and pitched their riders as the ground beneath their feet exploded and collapsed. The beasts kicked and bucked and screamed. Some forced their riders from their backs, others broke fearful and shrieking away from the waiting line of monsters. Others continued their headlong crash forward, spurred by command and bridle. Grillby could care less about killing them honestly. The more humans he unseated, the more horses he scattered, the more likely they were to stop the charge’s momentum. He wanted them to break against his front line like a wave against a cliffside. 

By the time he’d mustered another volley of lances the monsters behind him were firing, and the plumes of steam they’d made quickly turned to smoke and the dazzle of discharging magic. Some downed humans, others startled horses. Some missed, and the charge continued to crash against lances. Grillby watched a pair of riders come ripping through the line at his left only for the riders to be unseated seconds later. Dust added its bitter taste to the air, but far less than the smell of blood and flesh scorched by magic.

But it wouldn’t last long. The charged slowed yes, especially with Grillby’s felled trees and the pandemonium of unseated riders and writhing, fallen horses. But they would have to kill much more before an army of this size would be swayed, and as the charged pressed in, it grew harder and harder to keep them picked off from afar. In a breath or more it seemed, Grillby was crouching before an oncoming horse, longsword outstretched, and then springing forward into the powerful creature’s legs. 

One of the many times Grillby was glad he had nothing to fear of physical damage.

The creature hit him  _ hard,  _ easily bending the spiked pauldron on his shoulder and ripping a few of the links off his mail. But his sword cut deep into its belly while his free hand seared long digging marks down its flank. The creature screamed and kicked and collapsed on top of it’s rider, and on the ground Ruke dispatched them before they could crawl free.

“Tell me,” Ruke shouted above the noise as their ice leapt to life beneath their talons, “Was running headfirst into the horse  _ completely  _ necessary?”

Grillby shrugged, “It worked didn’t it?”

The ping of blue magic against his soul dragged him out of the way before another of the beasts could run him down. It crashed headlong into a waiting pike. Grillby stumbled as he tried to regain his balance, only managing to do so when Gaster steadied him at his back. It was going to take a bit to get used to that again. But get used to it he  _ would _ .

“Stay close to me,” Grillby ordered Gaster again, and Gaster responded with a nod and gritted teeth. He was terrified, that much was certain. But refused to leave Grillby’s side.

Grillby tried to start a rhythm, tried to hold his line. Tried to  _ help  _ as much as he possibly could. One moment he was sending forward lances, spinning wheels of fire, or even just making taller waves of the sparse patches of flame that caught and burned on the ground. The next moment he was swinging his sword to cut through the legs of a horse or leaping to slash at their rider. Another moment he was being dragged out of the way of something that came crashing through, kicking and screaming before crashing into the monsters behind him. The horses’ charging came sometimes quickly in angry waves of twenty, thirty or more staggered as they had to be to maneuver through the trees and those that fell before them. Other times they came less than six at once, only to realize that the debris had separated them from the main portion of the army. The smoke and steam was so thick in the woods Grillby could hardly see more than a few dozen feet in front of them before carnage and haze obscured the landscape. 

Once or twice Grillby caught sight of Brigg’s flashing hammer to one side, sweeping through to unseat a rider or send a horse sprawling off balance. Ruke he saw more frequently, the bird monster often using their flight to drag riders off their horses or their icy spines to impale running creatures. Magic lept from everywhere around them, the flashes in the gloom disorientating. Once or twice, Grillby looked up from an enemy to suddenly see he was looking the wrong direction, or isolated a bit too far into the murk of the woods to be comfortable. And it was a struggle to hold the line still. At any moment one side would retreat as horses smashed into them, while another would press forward in anticipation of a coming threat. It was constant yells down the line, reminders to stand together, to shake off the dust and stay close to keep them in check.

It was a marvel that Gaster managed to stay close to Grillby through all of it, and to keep him in check. Without him, Grillby wondered if he might have gotten lost in the chaos more than once. As it was now the skeleton was cautioning they step back, their line was ten long steps behind them and they were pressing too far forward. Grillby nodded and backed up slowly, hearing a coming horse before he saw it as it leaped into sight. And Grillby took a running leap to intercept it, sword held high to collide with it’s rider, Gaster’s blue magic around his soul to pull him back like a lifeline as soon as he did.

But it wasn’t Gaster’s blue magic that knocked Grillby away from the rider as they passed. It was something much larger, much  _ brighter _ , and much more powerful that slammed into Grillby’s side and sent him cartwheeling blindly. Grillby slammed to a halt against one of his own monster’s shields, and he felt it buckle beneath his weight and force. There was a sickening crunch as well, and a scream about something broken. Everything smelled like bitter magic, and there was a familiar buzzing sort of feeling in his chest and thunder in his ears.

_ That was a lightning spell. _

Grillby climbed to his feet. Before him he saw Gaster standing just off to the side where he’d stopped running to help Grillby to his feet. Grillby’s sword was glinting on the ground where he’d dropped it, the hilt searing from the heat of Grillby’s hands and  making the grass smoke. But the thing Grillby watched most earnestly was the fizzling magic that crackled and arced and recentered itself around the gleaming gem on a staff. The blast of energy had carved a line through the smoke and fog straight to the mage sitting high on his horse, staff held aloft. He lowered his staff to his side and dug his heels into his horse’s side. Behind him, the glimmering lights of two more glowing gems sparked to life.

Without another thought, fiery lances building in the air around him, Grillby broke into a sprint right towards the charging mage. He shouted for his sword, arm outstretched, and with a flash of blue magic Gaster threw it into his hand. The other two mages came leaping out of the fog right behind the first, one of them quite literally as their horse hurdled over a fallen tree.

Grillby released his lances, lit a fire beneath his feet and leaped, and he felt the ping of blue on his soul yank him downwards with a rush.

Lances collided with one of the following mages mid-leap and both horse and rider howled. With the weight of Gaster’s blue magic behind him, Grillby snapped the first mage’s staff like a dry twig, and the follow-through of the stroke cleaved their head off their shoulders. Grillby landed in a roll, leaped to his feet and shoulder forward collided hard with the last mage’s horse, burning as white hot as he could muster, wincing against the creature’s screams as it stumbled and fell. It bucked and writhed for a moment before staggering to its feet and bolting, leaving its rider behind on the ground where he clammored to his feet clutching a broken arm.

The rush that flooded through Grillby’s soul upon killing two mages at once was  _ incredible.  _ He was breathless, burning white hot and heaving smoke with every breath, his whole body still shaking from the energy of the lightning that had blasted him off his feet. He wanted to laugh, to  _ bask  _ in it. That had been  _ amazing _ .

But the battle wasn’t over, and he had no time to revel in the victory. More horses were pouring through the smog, his line was getting thin, and the mage before him still clutched his staff. He looked boyish and pathetic, tears running down his face from the pain of breaking his arm.  _ Afraid _ . But his hand still clenched around that staff, and a stream of spells writhed on his teeth.

Grillby lunged for him, sword outstretched. His shield caught the mage’s first spell as it blazed into life, the magic cascading over him in a shower of sparks. More lightning. He swung his sword and missed, blinded by the light and hurried before something smaller than him and - he was quickly learning -  _ faster _ . The human might look young, but he was still trained, and able to grit through the pain of his arm to attempt his magics and leap away from Grillby’s blade. He seemed to notice as well that the bright light dazzled Grillby, because he started pairing it with attacks. A burst of white light from the staff, and then the blue ping as Gaster yanked Grillby away from a spray of water. Leaping over his swinging sword only to parry with a flash of ice that Grillby barely managed to deflect with his shield. Once or twice Grillby felt Gaster’s blue clench around his soul to try and help him leap faster in the human’s direction, and it was in those rare instances that Grillby’s sword managed to catch on the mage’s shoulder or hip. The light jabs did little damage though. The mage must be wearing chainmail.

It was probably a lucky break that Grillby managed to kill the first two mages so quickly.

They broke apart once as an incoming horse came barrelling towards them barely controlled by it’s rider. Grillby lunged for the human again as soon as the horse had passed, and the mage shouted an ice spell that caught in his throat suddenly. There was a white flash, not of light but of  _ color,  _ and the blue grip of Gaster’s magic pulled Grillby back before his sword could connect with whatever had blindsided the mage. Ruke skid into a landing from the swift dive they’d taken, front claws tipped with long bloody talons of hard ice. Magic fizzled around the mage for a moment as whatever spell he’d started to speak died before it could be completed. He clutched at his bleeding throat for a moment, drowning in the wound Ruke had ripped open before finally collapsing. 

Grillby blinked at the bird monster as they said in the most deadpan fashion they could muster, holding forward one of their ice-tipped claws, “I thought I’d give you a hand?”

In spite of himself and how awful it all was, Grillby broke into a grin.

A flash caught in his peripheral vision. Grillby didn’t know what pulled him out of the way first, Gaster’s blue magic or Ruke’s talons as they suddenly lunged forward. All he knew was those icy claws stung when they curled into his arms. The two of them tumbled to the ground for a moment before Grillby could disentangle himself from Rukes many legs and get to his feet. The bird monster wasn’t hurt, only a little clumsy with their forelegs stiffened with ice. Grillby stepped in front of them as they struggled to their feet, shield forward.

It was the mage he’d unseated with his lances, barely standing braced against his staff. It was a testament to human tenacity that the mage even managed to stand at all. His robes were scorched and ripped, hanging from him in tatters. Beneath them his chainmail was fused in places and stretched in others from where the heat of Grillby’s lances had warped it. His body was all scorches and burns. The spell he’d shot at Grillby was an arc of water, if the fresh slaugh of mud across the ground was any indication. He looked absolutely devastated that he’d missed.

Ruke stood ready at Grillby’s side now, feathers bristling with spines of ice. Grillby lit a few of his lances and lunged forward, intent to finish the haggard thing where it stood even as he screamed a spell.

A spell that struck Gaster to the very soul. Words that made him scream and curl and cower with his hands above his head because he  _ knew them  _ and he  _ knew them well _ . 

But for all the fear he felt, he realized with dawning horror that the spell hadn’t been meant for  _ him _ , nor had the bright white he’d known so painfully consumed his vision. Gaster looked up slowly, and his soul dropped out of his chest. 

The mage was laughing, giddy with triumph and relief as Grillby staggered and fell to one knee. Ruke had flitted back a few steps standing closer to Gaster, confused as the elemental dropped his sword and clawed instead at his face, the back of his head  _ anything _ , screaming as he went.

And then just as suddenly as he’d started, Grillby stopped, eyes wide and centered on the ground at his feet, hands fisted in the blazing whites of the fire on his head. And then slowly,  _ calmly, _ Grillby stood, bending gently to retrieve his sword. He tested it in his hand for a moment, before tilting his head over his shoulder in Gaster and Ruke’s direction.

“It worked!” the mage laughed and screamed, relief cracking their voice, “It worked!! I can’t believe --”

Gaster hazarded a step forward, “Grillby? Grillby!”

He got no response, only an empty stare and the thunder of approaching hooves still making their way through the carnage. 

Finally the mage seemed to remember himself and where he was, and with a sternness in his voice he pointed his staff in Gaster’s direction.

“Wraithblaze!!” He screamed, “The monsters! Kill the monsters!”

Gaster watched in horror as Grillby turned to face him, felt his soul collapse out of his ribs as the temperature started to rise.

“Grillby, don’t do this!”

Fire licked to life, those wicked lances molding into shape.

“Don’t listen! Grillby don’t listen!”

Grillby twisted his sword in his hand, pointing the tip threateningly in the monsters’ direction. The elemental sprung forward, lances jolting forward.

Gaster screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.  
> That was a roller-coaster.  
> Wasn't it?
> 
> Also at all of you people who called this being a mind control spell!!! You guys!!! I thought I was doing such a good job of keeping that secret!!! Stop being super good super slueths!!!!  
>  I was actually really surprised and amazed when people guessed it keep being awesome.


	74. That Stings . png

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we revisit an old nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some music for this chapter! The first chapter to have music in ages. Feel free to listen with or without. Most of these songs are pretty short, so they'll likely have to be put on repeat. As far as I can tell they all fade in and out and repeat decently well for each segment they've been placed on but it's also getting dangerously close to 4am and I've been sitting here trying to fit music for over an hour soooooooooo. Yeah!.
> 
> Anyway the songs in order:
> 
> [What's Happening to Me by Two Steps From Hell](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDtuUgigtQE) (!)
> 
> [Starvation by Two Steps From Hell ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gK9VjiN0v38) (!!)
> 
> And finally
> 
> [ Moonlight Sonata by Hidden Citizens ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OUGH5BE5FQ) (!!!) whose link broke 6 times before it finally posted right.
> 
> And for a final important note!! This chapter also has illustrations! I'm not proficient at code, so these illustrations can only be viewed properly on a computer screen with a full view window. Otherwise you will have to scroll to see the full image. Be ye warned.
> 
> All the images were made by the fantastic little-red-gingersnap on tumblr, so definitely go give them some love if you enjoyed the chapter!

It was Ruke who saved Gaster from that deadly row of lances, swooping in quickly to snatch the skeleton up in their claws. Gaster felt the heat as the lances missed, watched them turn the ground where he’d been standing into molten debris. Watched the blank indifference on Grillby’s face as his gaze turned to follow the fleeing monsters. It sent a wrench of nauseous fear through Gaster’s soul, put a bitter taste in his mouth.

And then he was being dumped to the ground, landing in a tumble of armor at Brigg’s feet. Gaster hardly managed to stand before Ruke was off again, forelegs galloping for a few steps before they leaped into the air, ice dancing to life around their extended feathers. They dove for Grillby, talons outstretched, sheets of frost raining forward in their wake to crash against the elemental’s shield. In that moment Ruke looked every bit as blank and determined as Grillby did. They were only magic and direction, feathers and vicious ice-tipped claws that could cool flame to blackened core in a single raking scratch. Grillby was an excellent, _awesome_ warrior, and Ruke fierce and quick. The two of them were a dance of blurs and movement, they were all over the place and they were _terrifying._ Ruke a flurry of ice and claws, Grillby a shimmer of fire and steel. They clashed, Ruke somehow managed to wrench Grillby’s shield from his arm. They clashed again, Grillby’s sword sliced across one of Ruke’s forelegs and dappled the white bird in brilliant color.

_A fight between an elemental and his escort._

This was Ruke’s job. They were the contingency plan. The catch-all. The damage control for a creature gone unstable. An intense feeling of horror corkscrewed it’s way through Gaster’s soul and he gasped.

_Ruke was going to kill Grillby._

Gaster scrambled a few steps forward.

_No!_

He was yanked back abruptly by a large hand on the nape of his robes, ripped out of the way of a rider Gaster didn’t see coming. Gaster fell once again to the ground at Brigg’s feet, eyes snapping open in time to watch Brigg’s dangerous hammer slam hard into the flank of the horse as it passed. The creature screamed and unseated it’s rider into the waiting monsters.

“Daft idiot!” Brigg snarled, his breath a hail of sparks, “Watch where you’re going before you dust yourself!”

“Brigg!” Gaster gasped, scrambling once again to his feet, “We have to stop them! We have to help-!”

Another horse came barrelling through, and this time Gaster manage to cringe out of it’s way just barely, gritting his teeth against the tug of the passing wind as it ripped against his clothes. He tried to ignore the sickening noises behind him as the thing crunched through armor and creatures alike as it ran. _Gods_ this was getting bad.

“What the hell are you going on about?” Brigg demanded, eyes watching forward for more horses, “Stop what?”

“The mage!” Gaster stammered over the noise, hands fidgeting through signs that he didn’t have the time to motion properly, “It’s a spell and it’s - Grillby - it’s got Grillby and _Ruke’s going to kill him!”_

Just saying it outloud sent a cold chill of fear around Gaster’s bones, panic squeezing tight hands around his soul. _Grillby! They needed to help Grillby! They had to do something they-!_

Brigg finally tore his gaze away from the treeline to the direction Gaster had been trying to run, and Gaster watched the spines on the dragons’ back bristle, his small wings flare. Gaster didn’t know the dragon well enough to read exactly what the snarl on his face meant. Anger. Fear. Bitter determination. Something else entirely, perhaps. But whatever it was, it was unpleasant and grim.

“Nay lad,” Brigg said, his voice dropping so low it seemed it came from the earth itself, “ _He’s_ going to kill _them_.”

Gaster turned again to where Ruke and Grillby were fighting. Turned in time to watch Ruke’s latest sheet of ice burst into steam against a wall of flame. Watched as Grillby brought his sword to bear and pounced.

“And gods help us if he does,” Brigg said, his voice a growl of a whisper so low Gaster barely caught it. And then a bellow as the dragon called one of the commanders to take over his charge. Sure his unit wouldn’t fall without him, Brigg flared his tiny wings and sprinted off in Grillby’s direction.

“Brigg! _Wait!”_

Gaster sprung after him, stumbling once or twice on the chewed up earth before his long strides managed to close the distance to the dragon, “The mage Brigg!”

Brigg narrowed his eyes in a glance at Gaster, “What about it?”

“Kill the mage and break the spell!” he shouted, “It can’t hold once the soul supplying the magic is shattered!”

“What makes you think I can kill a mage?” Brigg snarled incredulously, his magic crackling to life at his hands.

“It’s easier than killing a friend, I’d imagine!” Gaster shouted back.

Brigg didn’t answer him. His wings flared and his head lowered just a bit. Smoke billowed past his teeth as he shoved one of his shoulders forward.

The dragon sent his crackling hammer slamming into Grillby’s side just as the elemental leaped for a nasty stab at Ruke’s exposed wing. The magical weapon connected with Grillby’s armor in a shower of sparks and the sickening crunch of crumpling mail, the two-handed stroke from Brigg powerful enough to lift the elemental off his feet and send him spiralling into a nearby tree. Brigg skid to a halt, heavy claws leaving deep scours in the ground. Gaster grabbed Ruke by one of their arms and helped them to their feet, snapping them out of the awestruck-daze Brigg’s attack had sent him into. They were a mess, all ruffled feathers and scorches and shaking limbs. _Tired_ and afraid.

“Ruke!” Brigg snarled, backing a step away from Grillby as the elemental clamored to his feet again - terrifying in how unscathed he was, “Steel yourself, we’re killing a mage!”

“What makes you think I can kill _a mage?”_ Ruke crowded back incredulously.

“Absolutely nothing!” Brigg shouted back, dodging around a crackling lance as Grillby shot it forward, “Gaster! You’ve sparred the lad before.”

Brigg spun his hammer in his hands, small eyes sweeping across the smog to spot the mage standing not far off, watching them fearfully.

“Hold him still until we’re done!” Brigg ordered, and with a motion for Ruke to join him, charged towards the mage. Ruke followed after quickly, swearing softly in breaths of frost as they went.

**(!)**

Gaster was left standing before Grillby _alone_.

Gaster’s soul shuddered so hard in his chest it felt constricted by his ribs. He felt nauseous, shaking like a child, watching his _friend_ walk closer and closer to him, fixated on the closest monster in sight. So familiar, so _wrong_.

“F-firefly--” Gaster stammered weakly, only to be cut off a moment later when the elemental charged towards him, clawing hand extended with fire throwing forward in the same motion. Gaster dodged nimbly to the side, glancing to watch the wave of fire as it crashed harmlessly against the ground where he’d been standing, then snatching a glance to watch Grillby’s foot land and then his body pivot. Grillby lunged again, lances flickering to life over his shoulder, gaze locked on Gaster as the skeleton dodged once more. The lances released and Gaster met them in the air with a few bone attacks, wincing against the painful shatter as the two magics crashed together.

Gods above, _gods above!_ Was Grillby always holding back whenever they sparred or was Gaster just _weak?_ He could _feel_ the air warp with Grillby’s deadly intent like a breath against his spine. Gaster’s soul twisted again in nauseous fear.

“Grillby come on!” he tried again insistently, _screaming_ shakily, ducking low beneath another attack and thanking his lucky stars Brigg’s blow had knocked Grillby’s sword into the grass somewhere, “You know me! Stop this! Don’t listen to the spell!”

Another of Grillby’s wicked lances snapped by him just barely, so hot and close it sent smoke flickering from Gaster’s robes. For every near miss Gaster felt his soul squirm against his ribs, his teeth clench painfully in a prayer he never managed to speak aloud. He was weak _so stupidly weak_ compared to an elemental - compared to _Grillby_ . How many hits would it take for him to fall before his friend? Two? _One?_ Grillby could dust him on the spot. One misstep, one misreading of intent, _one mistake_ and it would all be over. Terror threatened to root Gaster in place just at the thought. He tripped and stumbled and barely missed a spiral of fire as it pinwheeled to life and leaped in his direction.

Grillby could kill him.

_He didn’t want to die._

He didn’t want to die at the hands of his _friend._

Gaster ducked another attack, gasping for breath, vision blurring, barely able to keep an eye on Grillby’s flickering figure as he jolted in his direction again. Scalding fingers, white hot and burning latched onto the front of Gaster’s robe before he could squirm out of the way. For a panic-filled second all Gaster saw was the blazing whites of Grillby’s eyes, the flash of his mouth bared in a victorious snarl, the feel of  heat breaking against bone.

_“Grillby please!”_

There was no recognition. There was no relenting.

Gaster screwed his eye sockets shut and with a mighty heave of blue magic ripped Grillby back and away from him. The elemental kept his feet deftly, skidding and bringing hot plumes of smoke to life with every foot-fall. With another of those emotionless stares in Gaster’s direction he came again.

Gaster was terrified of letting Grillby close the distance between them again. He grabbed his friend with blue and tossed him, sending Grillby crashing into one of the trees he’d felled. Bone attacks sprang to life, weaving across the ground in jagged, haphazard patterns. When Grillby tried to dodge them he was knocked off his feet again.

This wasn’t a spar. As much as Gaster wanted to pretend it was and calm his nerves and stop his sickening panic, _this wasn’t a spar_ . There was no exasperation. There was no _emotion_ . Grillby didn’t quip back or flair with annoyance when he was knocked over. He didn’t sign or wave his hands exasperatedly. He didn’t even seem to _care_ . Anything that could possibly make Grillby _Grillby_ was buried beneath magic and the stronger overbearing soul of a mage. Grillby’s flame didn’t even change color. No angry reds, victorious blues. No flickers of yellow and orange as he successfully dodged one of Gaster’s attacks. No greens as he thought or was caught off-guard.

He burned white from heat, and that was all.

And Gaster had to wonder how long Grillby could keep it up. Surely that must be exhausted, burning the hottest he could without a breath or a break? Was Grillby just _that strong?_ Always capable but always held back by thoughts, or worry, or anxiety of hurting other people?

Was this what being an elemental was?

If it was, it was terrifying, and Gaster _knew_ he couldn’t keep up. Every jolt of blue magic to keep Grillby at bay was a tax on his soul he could feel as a sluggishness in his limbs. The warping heat and billowing smoke made it hard to see, even harder to dodge. Distances seemed to stretch and shrink with every movement and breath of billowing air. Gaster’s shaking was just as much from fear as it was from fatigue, his gasps of Grillby’s name and begging for recognition growing more pathetic and hoarse in the back of his throat.

Gaster wanted to stop. He wanted to _cry_ . He was fighting an uphill battle and he _knew it_ . He was fighting _Grillby_ , the most terrifying thing he’d ever seen in his life, all blackened twisted armor and blinding light and relentless magic. The elemental who’d fought a dozen mages and lived.

Gaster dodged beneath a flaming lance only to pitch right into the path of a second. He rose a wall of bones to block _just_ in time, but not quite fast enough to take the full blow. His attacks shattered into chips of bone and the concussive heat of the lance knocked Gaster off his feet. He hit the ground and skid against the grass, fingers instantly clawing for purchase to wrench himself to his feet again. He looked up and saw more lances forming.

**(!!)**

A loud scream startled him, startled Grillby, and caused the elemental’s gaze to snap to the right. Gaster caught a glimpse of the mage being lifted off his feet as he came in contact with Brigg’s hammer. He didn’t actually _see_ the attack land, but he didn’t have to. It was enough to see the human as he landed, blood spilling from his mouth and ribs dented inwards _much_ too far. A second later a dozen of Ruke’s icy shards finished whatever Brigg’s crushing blow hadn’t. There was a shimmer and pop as the mage’s soul shattered.

Gaster laughed with relief, “ _Thank heavens_.”

He got to his feet, turned to face Grillby - only to be greeted by a wall of flame hurtling in his direction. It was pure reflex that saved him then, reflexes built from dozens of spars up against those hungry flames - though normally much more subdued. In the same movement that Gaster leaped to his feet he summoned a pair of blasters, and he let their own blasts meet the wall flung towards him. The two attacks crashed together in a storm of smoke and sparks, and Gaster’s running took him wide and around Grillby as he cleaved his way through the fizzling light. It took the elemental hardly a second to find Gaster again in the chaos of it, and then he was once again lunging forward.

Gaster was _reeling_ , barely able to dodge, panic curling around his soul once more. _This was wrong!_ Grillby shouldn’t be fighting anymore! The spell --! The mage --! _The mage was dead!_ What--? _What had gone wrong?_

He didn’t get it. _He didn’t understand!_ And he couldn’t _think straight_ to try and figure it out. Not amidst the rumble of hooves still coming and the waves of fire. Gods alive, _what had he done wrong?_ What had all of them _done wrong?_

 _Why hadn’t the spell broken_.

Distracted, his movements slowing with fatigue, Graster misstepped as he dodged out of the way of a burst of flame. He turned his ankle and sent himself sprawling, yelping at the painful twist that went shooting up his leg. It was such a little thing, but the scramble to limp back to his feet was _enough_. Enough for Grillby to close the distance between them again before Gaster could rightly stand. Gaster didn’t see what saved him - at some point he’d crouched and covered his face in the hopes of surviving whatever hit Grillby had planned for him. All he knew was he heard the crackle of magic and a flush of cold, and suddenly Brigg was yanking him to his feet, all sparks and smoking, heaving breaths. He looked ragged to say the least. Despite how wounded the mage had been, they must’ve still put up a fight.

“Alright boy,” Brigg snarled breathlessly, “ _What’s going on?”_

“I-i don’t know!” Gaster stammered, shaking hands signing fervently. He glanced past Brigg where Ruke was keeping Grillby distracted, once again a tangle of fire and ice, “Its - a spell needs a host for magic. That should’ve worked! I don’t understand - !”

“Well it _didn’t_ work,” Brigg cut him off abruptly, “And we’re running out of time.”

“Wh -?”

Brigg ushered in towards the army they stood apart from - or at least ushered in their direction. Everything was still steam and smoke, thick enough to obscure the monsters to hazy forms even at so close a distance. But worse still was how thin the line was, and how far they’d stepped back from where they’d started. Horsemen still came in scattered wavves - but those waves were becoming increasingly scattered and harder to read than before. Whatever command at the back of the human lines was getting wind that something was wrong and finally regrouping.

“If we’re going to retreat it _must_ happen soon,” Brigg huffed grimly, “With or without the elemental.”

Gaster blinked.

No.

Tears pricked at his eye sockets. Frustrated, exhausted, terrified tears.

 _No_.

“We can’t just leave him behind!” Gaster shouted, voice cracking with emotion, “ _We can’t!”_

“Of course we can’t!” Brigg snarled back, the loudness of his voice seeming to rattle every one of Gaster’s bones, “If they’ve got more mages that know that spell -”

_No no no no -!_

“We c-can’t -”

“Boy _listen_ ,” Brigg clapped a hand down hard on Gaster’s shoulder, forcing the skeleton to look him hard in the eye, “ _Use your head for once_ and not your goddamn _hysterics_.”

Brigg’s eyes narrowed, “We can’t stop him. We can’t snap him out of it. _Killing the mage_ didn’t work.”

Gaster’s chest felt tight. He didn’t want this. _He didn’t want this_.

“He could wipe out our whole line right now if we gave him the chance,” Brigg pressed insistently, “And when he’s done have a dozen mages ready to give him more orders. _We can’t let that happen._ ”

Gaster shook his head, _no they can’t this wasn’t happening they can’t -_

“He wouldn’t _want_ that to happen, boy,” Brigg said, his voice dropping a bit lower.

Gaster thought he was going to throw up. He thought he could feel his soul cracking just as surely as if he’d taken one of Grillby’s lances to the chest. And his mind was racing, flying back to a battle at a bridge and laying on the ground and looking at the stars and being terrified because Grillby had leaped _and I’d rather be dead than caught_ and a barrier and a spell and feeling and somehow knowing his magic wasn’t his own anymore and not really knowing _why_.

“I c-can’t-” Gaster stammered but Brigg cut him off.

“Of _course_ you can’t,” he said sternly, finally releasing Gaster’s shoulder, “But Ruke _can_ , and they’ll need help. ”

Then Brigg turned, that magical hammer of his materializing in his hands and crackling bitterly. It couldn’t hurt Grillby. _Very few things_ could hurt Grillby. Ruke was one of them - and they were looking more and more exhausted by the second. Brigg charged to help them, slamming his hammer down and intercepting a wave of flame before it could scald Ruke. Grillby’s gaze turned towards Brigg, and he unleashed a wave of fire that broke across the dragon’s scales. Magical, strong _elemental_ fire that clung to Brigg’s fire-proof scales and seemed to warp them, heedless of the protection they normally gave.

 _A force to be reckoned with_.

Ruke leaped over Brigg’s shoulders, those icy talons outstretched to scour deep into Grillby’s shoulder - the first blow Gaster had seen the escort land. The hooked talons tore through Grillby’s mail and gouged straight to the core beneath. Grillby _screamed_ and the sound brought Gaster to his knees. _He could still feel pain._ He still screamed in _his own voice_ . A voice that Gaster had heard cry in anguish against falling water and laugh and joke and be warm and soft and was so incredibly _Grillby_.

Flame billowed to life, crashing against Ruke as the bird monster attempted to dodge it, threatening to burn their delicate feathers. Gaster reached out with blue and yanked Ruke away before the flames could do too much damage. The movement left Ruke bewildered and a little off-balance, but gave Brigg the time he needed to step in with his hammer once more. Grillby blocked the heavy stroke with his crossed arms. He didn’t lose his footing like the first time Brigg hit him, though he did skid back several paces in the softened ground. Brigg seemed to get an idea, eyeing the nearby tree Grillby now stood before. He sprung forward, shouting for Ruke to distract Grillby as he went. They hardly needed told, already alighting with a haze of frost casting forward in their wake. The creeping frost reached and clawed against Grillby’s armor, forcing the elemental another few steps back away from it. Ruke dove for him then, icy talons outstretched.

Gaster didn’t know what to do. _He didn’t know what to do_ . He couldn’t help them kill his friend. Gods above _this wasn’t fair_ . _Why was this happening?_ There had to be some way to stop it! He just didn’t know _how_.

Before Ruke’s talons could rake into Grillby once more, they were met in the air by one of the elemental’s lances that came rocketing to life too close and too hot to deflect. It was an explosion of light and smoke and a ripping scream - both from Ruke and from Brigg who’d tried to come to their aid in time and failed. When the smoke cleared Grillby had staggered a few more paces back, eyes nearly squinted shut against the brightness of the flames he’d conjured. Ruke was sprawled on the ground paces away from him, a haphazard bundle of smoking feathers.

Gaster stood and dashed towards them. _They were alive_ , he could see them breathing. He slid to their side just as Brigg came barrelling into Grillby, distracting him once again, _pushing him back_ Gaster realized now, closer towards the tree. He’d scooped a longsword up from the ground and it flashed in his hands clumsily. Brigg wasn’t one for using swords. It wouldn’t hurt Grillby, Gaster knew. He didn’t understand why-

Ruke groaned, shuffling softly where they lay. Their eyes blinked open dazedly.

“I’m alive.”

“You’re surprised?” Gaster asked through a tense laugh. He glanced up to watch Brigg brace himself against a wave of flame, wincing against the heat.

“He’s trying to… pin him...” Ruke gasped hazily, looking in Brigg’s direction, their gaze out of focus, “If we can hold him still I can-”

Ruke tried to get to their feet and with a strangled sort of cry collapsed back down again - Gaster just barely managed to reach out with blue and set them gently on the ground again. Their left wing looked terrible. Feathers were missing across almost its entire length, burned off by the lance the instant it had touched them. The wing itself… well… Gaster had to admit he was no expert on bird monster anatomy, but if he had to guess he’d say it was broken. And from the way Ruke was acting, possibly more was broken besides. This was bad. _This was bad_.

The heavy sound of crunching metal snapped up Gaster’s attention again, and he looked up to see Brigg against one of Grillby’s waves of fire. There was a hole ripped in Brigg’s armor, fist sized and still bright molten colors around the edges. Beneath it Brigg’s scales smoked and cracked. Had that been another lance? How many more hits like it could Brigg take? Gods, Brigg was the strongest monster Gaster knew.

_Grillby was going to kill him._

Brigg snarled and charged forward again, hammer swinging in an attempt to knock Grillby back - an attack the elemental easily dodged. Grillby was going to kill Brigg, and he was going to do it _easily_. And Ruke - the bird monster stirred hazily again, and groaned in pain when they did. If Brigg even managed to pin Grillby down, could Ruke even do anything about it now?

They were outmatched. They were _nothing_ compared to _this_ . Nothing compared to _an elemental_ . Grillby was _terrifying_ and there was nothing they could do.

Finally Brigg seemed to get Grillby where he wanted to, standing before the tree. The dragon lurched away from a wave of fire, ducked out of the way of a few more lances. Then sword pointed forward, he rushed forward. Grillby watched him come, blank as a statue. Uncaring, unfeeling. Trapped in a spell. He reached out a hand, twisted to the side and caught the blade before it could glide past him. For a moment that seemed _much too long_ , time seemed to stop. Brigg was huffing sparks and smoke and wincing against a white heat he could feel through his scales. Grillby, hand clenched around a blade he couldn’t rightly feel, the metal glowing hot beneath his touch. Grillby twisted his wrist, bending the molten metal in his grasp and rendering it useless in a single movement. Then he threw a wave of fire over Brigg, knocking the stocky dragon off his feet with the force of the blast. Another blast of fire and Brigg curled in on himself, teeth bared, arms crossed up to shield is face and from air that was too hot to breathe.

_He was going to kill Brigg_.

And Gaster could do _nothing_ . He was just _Gaster_ . He was _so weak_ . What could he do that Brigg and Ruke couldn’t? They were going to die and _Grillby_ of all people was going to kill them and he was _useless_ . And he wanted to cry and scream and do _something_ but there was absolutely nothing he could do. He was _just Gaster_ . Just a stupid monster who shouldn’t even _be here_. Just a doctor that couldn’t even heal people the way he was supposed to. Just an idiot who messed around with souls.

**(!!!)**

Gaster clamored to his feet. Grillby’s gaze twitched in his direction, as if he’d just realized he was there.

“Come on firefly,” Gaster said shakily, stepping around Ruke as he spoke. He didn’t have to say anything. The walking alone had the elemental’s attention, cut off the stream of flame he’d been forcing against Brigg. The dragon didn’t move from where he’d fallen, but he hadn’t turned to dust. Neither had Ruke yet.

 _Yet_.

Gaster ran, sensing the build in the air before the rush of flame. He slid beneath a wall of flame as it flurried towards him, winced his eye sockets shut against the brightness and the heat. The closeness of it singed his clothes, once again coaxed smoke from his robes. Gaster got back to his feet, dancing out of the way of a few lances, firing back a few bone attacks for good measure. He missed, but it didn’t matter if he hit Grillby anyway. No attacks he could land could actually hurt the elemental. Of course they couldn’t.

But Grillby followed him, with his gaze and his magic. He turned his back on the crumpled form of Brigg that shuffled hesitantly where he’d fallen. Away from the still form of Ruke whose only movement came from the soft wafting of smoke off their feathers.

Gaster dodged behind the tree that Brigg had been desperately trying to pin Grillby against. He screamed when a wave of fire blasted into it, parting the white-hot magic and sending the tendrils burning uselessly off to either side. The tree groaned and crackled and smoke billowed, but the temporary shelter held, and Gaster leaned against it gratefully, shaking, breathing ragged.

_He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this!_

“Grillby _please!”_ Gaster screamed, “I’m begging you _stop_.”

Of course there was no response. If his pathetic begging could reach through the spell, it would’ve by now. Gaster’s soul hammered against his chest, and he held his breath as if it could somehow still his shaking. As if he could somehow calm his nerves and his fear.

 _He didn’t want this_.

_Grillby wouldn’t want this either._

He could hear Grillby’s footsteps approaching, hear the crackling as the heat seared the earth as he walked. Grillby knew where Gaster was hiding - it was hardly a hiding place at all.

_Brigg was right. Of course he was right._

Gaster dashed from behind the tree, sliding low across the grass as he dodged another volley of flame. But instead of running away, he closed the distance between himself and the elemental, teeth gritted, breath held once again as if it could help keep his movements steady. The sudden rush caught Grillby off-guard. Gaster had always been faster than him. It was the only advantage he had.

 _Grillby wouldn’t want to know he’d been used like this. He’d fall down altogether if he killed someone_.

Gaster pinged Grillby’s soul with blue just as the elemental swung forward to grab him. It knocked him off his feet and slammed him hard into the ground. Then Gaster was on top of him, a pair of bone attacks sinking into Grillby’s hands, trying to pin him down. Just being so close to Grillby was painful. Gaster could feel the hitch in his HP as the air itself seared his bones. With every desperate breath he could feel the scorch against his ribs, nearly against his soul.

_He’d rather be dead than caught._

Gaster splayed his hands in a familiar motion, blue magic pulling gently at something familiar but _wrong_ . Cold and emotionless and so devoid of his friend. But regardless he hesitated when he saw his friend’s soul laid bare before him. He couldn’t do this. His breath caught somewhere in his throat and horror froze him stiff. _He couldn’t do this_.

The hesitation was all Grillby needed.

With a snarl his heat obliterated the attacks that kept his hands pinned, crunching through them like brittle ash. Grillby slammed a fist against the side of Gaster’s face, and with a scream Gaster was knocked to the side. And then scrambling as Grillby moved to clamor on top of him, hands reaching to wrap around Gaster’s throat, his robes, to grab _anything_ to hold him still long enough to burn him to nothing. Gaster screamed and scrambled backwards, barely remembering his blue magic in time to throw Grillby away. And then the elemental was scrabbling up to his feet again, the air swelling with his fell magic. Gaster somehow managed to crawl to the safety of the tree again before the waves of fire broke around him. He curled on the ground there waiting for the rain of fire to end, holding his breath against the heat in the air.

_Gods damn it gods damn it!_

Gaster was shaking so hard he could barely stand, every gasp of breath a painful hiccup in his chest, his teeth stammering around half words he didn’t even realize he was speaking. But stand he did as soon as the fire stopped, stand and _run_. Back around the tree again, rushing towards Grillby who’d hardly seen him dash from his cover amidst all the smoke. Gaster slipped his knives from their sheathes and opened a blaster over his shoulder, dazzling Grillby with the light of the blast even if the magic itself missed wide. Gaster slammed into Grillby while the elemental had his eyes shielded, and with the aid of blue magic he sent Grillby to the ground again. This time instead of his brittle attacks, he sunk the knives into Grillby’s hands. Instantly it seemed the metal heated to yellow and white, burnished and bronzed like the rest of Grillby’s armor. He squirmed beneath Gaster’s grasp, trying to wrench himself free. But he didn’t gaze up at Gaster with hate or spite or defiance. His flame didn’t twist in colors of rage or fear. He hardly even seemed annoyed at being pinned. He only wanted to escape to attack again.

Gaster pulled Grillby’s soul from his chest, hands quivering for a moment as he searched for anything _anything_ wrong. Any place where the spell had left a mark, a tie he could sever. _Anything_.

One of the long knives started to wrench free.

“Gods _damnit_ Grillby,” Gaster breathed.

He twined his fingers through the cords of Grillby’s soul and pulled, like he had so many times before to heal monsters, to check through his friend’s stats and make sure he was safe. Like he had a number of times to heal the elemental himself. To try and sew together whatever was broken. Now he unraveled it all, everything his fingers could tangle around, until the air in front of him was a splay of quivering chords from a broken soul.

Beneath him Grillby writhed and screamed in a voice that was so _painfully his_ . He sobbed, his flames billowed and brightened and dulled all over again. Half-words and stammers to stop mingled with blind wails at the pain of it all. He arched his back, kicked and twisted. He trembled and shook and wrenched to be free but every movement got weaker with each threat that was unraveled. Gaster didn’t stop. Not until the thrashing beneath him stilled and the heat and smoke died to a fraction of their former fury. Not until Grillby was quiet as death, his flame low and cooled to flickering reds with the occasional painful wisp of green. Gaster stopped and watched and waited, shaking, _crying_ , every breath a whimper that strangled itself through the back of his throat.

Then he started weaving the chords back together. First slowly, hesitantly, then faster and more panicked. Quickly _quickly_ before something went wrong and Grillby crumbled to dust right in front of him. Every cord was wound back together, every piece of soul coaxed back into place, though now so much smaller than before. Weak from the effort of being yanked apart, coalescing back loosely into what it should have been. When Gaster finished he gently pushed the quivering soul back into Grillby’s chest and he waited. Waited for _anything_. He hadn’t stopped crying since he’d started, and now he shook so hard he could hardly breathe. He bit his knuckle and tried to calm it, tried to stifle the hysterical noises of panic in his throat before they could burst open completely.

_Grillby, Grillby wake up._

The elemental didn’t move beneath him. He just lay there, a weak flickering of orange and red in place of the absolute _monster_ he had been moments before.

“Grillby?” Gaster stammered, biting his knuckle so hard he could feel the ache in his jaw, “Please wake up.”

“Firefly _please_.”

 

 _“I’m sorry please_.”

 

_Firefly_

 

_Wake up._

 

_I’m  b e g g i n g     y o u ._

  


_P     l e     a s e_

  
  
  
  
  


_T      h i s                    c a n ’ t b e       t h e e   n d . … . ._

  
  
  


_N    o       t              y e              t . .             ._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“... is that what you’re nightmares are about?” Grillby hummed quietly, “About fighting that human again?”_
> 
>  
> 
> _To this, Gaster shrugged. He tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice cracked somewhere once or twice as he spoke, and Grillby knew it bothered him._
> 
> _“Less the human and more the soul-ripping part,” the skeleton mumbled, his gaze rooted steadfastly on the stone roof they sat on, “Sometimes it’s still the human there, screaming at me. Sometimes I’ve done it to myself - those ones are always interesting. A little easier to detach myself from, I think. Sometimes it’s people I know…”_
> 
> * * *
> 
> There's a lot to say about this chapter, but I'll save it for next time.


End file.
